Landslide
by incense and peppermints
Summary: *Attention all* Sequel is now up! See: Inescapable Reality. Thanks! Julia Randle has always been able to count on her brother, her stepmom, and her best friend, but the chaotic ups and downs of a few weeks leave her questioning everything.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I don't own _The Outsiders _by the lovely S.E. Hinton or the title inspired by Fleetwood Mac's song _Landslide_.

**ATTENTION ALL: There is a sequel! I thought I'd post a note here quick since this story is still getting TONS of traffic and the sequel not so much. It's called Inescapable Reality, and you can find it on my profile. :) Thanks everyone! **

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It always puzzled me how my brother could act so self-assured, and if there was one thing I envied about him, it was that. Steve knew everything about everything; or so he'd say if you asked. It didn't matter if I proved him wrong because he'd still insist he was right, over and over and over again until I no longer remembered or cared about the argument. After twelve years of being his little sister, I could say for certain he _didn't_ know everything, he only claimed to, but that didn't matter. He pretended real well, and that stubborn insistence was all that counted when it came to some people.

He had two skills I lacked: a smart mouth and the guts to say exactly what was on his mind. I hated him for both. He always had the good comebacks and could cut somebody in three words what would take me three sentences. It was like he'd sucked every last bit of the confidence gene out of our mother's womb, leaving only the awkward qualities for me.

He was good at everything, and anything I was good at, he was better. It wasn't fair. Sometimes I figured the only thing I did well was not pay attention. I was doing it right now, and like it was the only reason I survived school, it was the same reason I hated it.

Some teachers thought I was slow; others, especially those who knew my brother, suspected I was capable yet stubborn. Whenever anybody recognized me as "Steve Randle's sister", I prepared myself for whatever crazy ideas they had about me. He had a reputation among teachers; most felt he was exceptionally bright but didn't apply himself to his fullest potential. He never studied, and he always pulled at least a B.

It was annoying, but actually proved useful in a roundabout sorta way. I had attention issues, but sometimes simply trying harder than Steve made a teacher take a liking to me. One thing was for sure; when they noticed I wasn't Steve in female form, _you're-nothing-like-your-brother-are-you?_ remarks were sure to follow, but it could've been worse.

At least I wasn't Rachel Mathews.

I sighed and focused on the board, attempting to recall whatever Mrs. Fox had just said. Out corner of my eye, I'd caught one of her dirty looks and realized in that split second how stupid it'd be to get caught not paying attention when I'd just been thinking about, well, how I never paid attention.

"Julia." The dirty look had become a full on glare. "I just asked you a question."

Of course she had, and this was the precise reason she hated me. She was an old hag who desperately needed to retire and always expected her students to be exact replicas of model students. You know, the ones who were always on task and smiled whenever the teacher looked at them—I never fit that bill.

"I'm sorry." I twiddled my thumbs and sat up straighter to appease her. She hated slouchers and had a reputation of smacking a ruler against your desk if it looked like you were slacking off.

"Could you please repeat the question, ma'am?" I asked weakly, careful to remember that all important "ma'am" at the end.

She narrowed her eyes and shook her head. "Twice was more than enough for you to hear it. Class, would one of you be willing to repeat the question for Julia?"

Of course Marie Greenwood's hand shot up immediately. When Mrs. Fox called on her, she whipped around and gave me an awful snide smirk. "She asked what started World War I, Julia," she said, and like clockwork, her expression went from sinister to saintly as she turned to face the teacher.

What a brown-noser. I decided right then and there that girls were evil, and if they weren't, they had the severe potential to be. Forwhatever reason she had it out for me since grade school. Back then, I might've cried about it, but I was used to it by now. Besides, it had gotten better in Junior High after Angela picked a fight with her over it, but seeing as Angel wasn't in my history class, Marie could have all the fun she wanted.

Mrs. Fox raised an eyebrow, fishing for a response, and I realized my mind had wandered again. I told her I didn't know, which was a lie; I was ninety percent positive I knew the answer and was just too embarrassed to risk getting it wrong. Of course, Marie enlightened us all at my lack of response.

After class I gathered my things and attempted to leave quickly, but before I made it out of the building, I bumped into Angela.

"Hey!" She ran after me and grabbed my arm. "Don't cut out so fast, Jule. You ain't even said goodbye."

I frowned and rested my back against the wall we were closest to.

"Jeez, you're uptight today. What's up with you?"

"One word," I said, "_Marie_."

"God, I hate that bitch." Angela smirked as she said it, and I could tell she was already excited she might get to start a fight with her. "What's that self-righteous fuck done now?"

"Just the usual," I said, trying to curb her excitement. I loved how cuss words like "bitch" and "fuck" flew out of her mouth right and left now. I cussed too, but tried to limit it to the milder ones, like damn or ass. She didn't limit her mouth to anything and it was no wonder. If you'd ever been to her house, you'd see exactly how she got that way.

We walked outside together, like we did most days, and a boy instantly nabbed Angela's attention. "What do you think of him?" she asked, regarding him. He was tall, muscled, and had a soft-looking face behind his brown hair. He was damn attractive, but looked about my brother's age, and that creeped me out.

"Rumor has it he thinks I'm hot," Angela said.

I cocked an eyebrow. "Who told you that?"

"Candy."

I rolled my eyes. "And you believe it?" If Candace Miller were a reliable source, I was an excellent liar. Neither was true.

"Well, there's only one way to find out," she said with a huge grin. "C'mon, maybe he's got a good-lookin' buddy for you."

"No thanks."

"Suit yourself."

She wasted no time moseying up to him. I sat on the school steps and watched with both disgust and fascination as she flirted with him. Moments like these made it hard to believe this was the same girl who'd vowed to be my best friend under the raggedy, old jungle gym back in grade school. I missed those days; back then we were inseparable, practically twins. We used to meet there every day at recess. We called it our jungle gym and declared ourselves queens of the entire playground, but things were changing fast. Sometimes I wondered if she remembered that promise. We were still friends, at least in the sense she'd take up for me if anybody teased me, Marie was a _great_ example of that, but we were drifting apart.

Angela Shepard had discovered boys, and there was no going back for her. I only hoped I wouldn't lose my mind when I turned thirteen.

"C'mon, Jule!" She waved for me to join her, and while I was flattered, I pretended not to see it. I wanted nothing to do with this, so I kept myself firmly planted to the school steps, swearing I wouldn't budge an itch until Steve came to pick me up.

She motioned for me again, but I ignored it. "Jakey here thinks you're cute, don't ya, Jake?"

I looked up briefly, and my stomach churned when he smiled. He was gorgeous, but he was my brother's age, which put him off limits even if I could date.

When I failed to reply, she rolled her eyes and averted her attention right back to him. She twirled her hair as she spoke and playfully slapped his arm every now and then. I wondered what her brothers would do if they saw this. If it were me, Steve would have a few things to say about it; he'd have a few things to say and _then_ some.

I could only guess they didn't know, 'cause if they did, there was no way they'd be okay with this. I could only make out bits and pieces of what she was saying, but it didn't matter. Whatever she said, or did, he fell for it, and she took advantage of that like she'd just discovered the great power curves had graced her.

As much I hated to admit it, I was jealous. Jealous of her social confidence, and relative ease around members of the opposite sex, but mostly just jealous of her damned good looks. If I were that pretty, I could have whatever the hell I wanted, but when it came to having curves in all the right places, I lacked them in every location. In my current state, I looked ten and that was a generous estimate. I stood no chance against girls like her.

"You gonna sit here all day?" I looked up and Steve stood in front of me. I guess I hadn't noticed his car pull up.

I shrugged and pulled myself up. As we walked towards his car, he bobbed his head to Angela and raised an eyebrow. "What's she doin' with him?" he asked.

I glanced at Angela and shrugged again. "Honest, Steve, I ain't got a clue."

He nodded, but much to my dismay, began to approach them. "Steve, don't." I went after him, but I was too late. He was already there, and Jake had suspiciously cut out.

"Your brother know you're flirting with Jake?" he asked Angela.

"C'mon, Steve, let's just go."

"Shut up, Julia." He turned back to Angela. "Does he know?"

"I got more than one brother, you know," she said. "What one're we talking about?"

"Whatever one scares you more."

She crossed her arms across her chest and glared at me as though I had something to do with this. "Why?" she asked, shifting her icy glaze to Steve. "You gonna tell Tim?" Her tone was sharp and provoking, as though she was daring him.

"I just might."

"Fine, go ahead then. I ain't scare of him."

She huffed loudly and turned to me. I ran my hand through my hair and gave her a look in a failed attempt to warn her. What was she, stupid? If I'd learned anything over the years it was that daring Steve to do anything was a horrible idea.

"See ya tomorrow, Julia." As she left she gave Steve one hell of a look, which made him grin like an idiot.

"Ugh, you really have to do that?" I asked, shoving him. "You think you're so funny, but you're not!"

He didn't even budge an inch from the shove and nudged me towards his car. "I am funny."

"You even know him anyway?"

"'Course I do." He looked at me like I was stupid for asking. "That's Jake Willard. He's in Shepard's gang and he's dumb as shit."

My eyes grew wide at the part about Tim's gang. Glory, he really must've been dumb to think he could have Angela…

"Look, get mad at me all you want," he said. "But I was doin' your friend a favor. If Tim knew about that, he'd kill 'em both, 'specially Jake."

Knowing Tim, I didn't doubt that. "So, you gonna tell him?"

"Maybe." He smirked at me and started the car. "It's awful tempting."

I frowned at him and rolled my eyes; he would do something like that.

xxxx

When we got home, Rosie was sitting at the kitchen table with a stack of bills. She'd been our stepmother for nearly three years now and I'd grown to like her quite a bit.

She looked up. She was distressed, but managed to forge a smile. "How was school?"

"Been better." I sighed. "Girls are evil."

She smirked and nodded knowingly. "That they are."

I went on to whine about how much I hated Marie and she listened intently. She always did. She may have been my stepmom, but she acted more like a big sister. She took me shopping, taught me how to shave my legs, gossiped with me and all that important girl stuff Steve or Dad would _never_ understand. It sounded corny, but I wanted to be just like her. She was amazingly beautiful, and she didn't have to work at it. Her long blonde hair was always perfect compared to my frizzy brown mess, and sometimes I wished she'd been my real mom so I could've inherited her genes; both looks and personality.

"Hey." Steve walked up to me, keys in his hands. "Tell Dad I'm at Soda's if he asks," he said, and I knew he was addressing only me and not Rosie. He hated Rosie for reasons I didn't understand.

"Don't stay out too late, hun," Rosie called after him. "Your dad worries, you know."

He grumbled and whipped around. "Don't call me that." His tone wasn't mean necessarily; well, not mean for him. This was him trying to hold back, but as always, it still had that edge, that edge that made me tear up when he used it against me. "And I doubt that, so don't even try to bullshit me."

"Sorry, dear, I didn't mean to upset…"

Steve sighed loudly, and Rosie didn't finish her sentence. She curled her bottom lip under her teeth and nodded, as though to offer a nonverbal apology, but Steve wouldn't take it.

He moved a few steps closer to her and stared her down. "I ain't your son," he said coolly. "You ain't my mother, or my girlfriend, so quit callin' me dear, sweetie or any other cutesie shit you can think of."

I shook my head at Steve, trying to get him to stop. She called everyone "hun" and "sweetie", and so did lots of people down South. It was nothing to flip his lid over.

Rosie looked pissed, but she didn't say anything; she just left.

"God, Steve," I pleaded with him as soon as she was gone. "She's just tryin' to be nice. I mean, why can't you be a little nicer to her?"

He narrowed his eyes. "I can't believe you'd even ask that," he said. "You know damn well why."

I shrugged and sunk further into my seat. I'd heard his reasoning before, and whether I wanted to or not, I was gonna hear it again.

"She's only six years older than me." He was reeling. "And she insists on treating me like I'm her son? I mean, I'm closer in age to her than Dad is. You don't think that's messed up, Jule?"

"I guess so, but…"

"You _guess_ so? Six years. Eleven years older than you. She ain't even old enough to be your mother."

I sighed. It was kinda messed up, but then again, Dad and our real mom were both fifteen when they had Steve, which made Dad awful young at thirty-three. Considering that, it was a little less creepy he was married to a twenty-three year old, but nevertheless, I got what Steve was getting at. I just hated to see him be such an ass to her when she was so nice to us.

"Steve, please…"

"Shut up."

I did shut up. I didn't want to, but when he was mad like this, you just did. He never backed down, not ever, not even when it was in his best interest.

I hated it when we argued, and I especially hated it when it was about her. I didn't care how old she was; it felt amazing to have another female in the house, and that was something I couldn't explain to him. I'd never known my real mother and I'd never had a sister, so this was as close to a female influence as I was gonna get.

I drummed my fingers against the table to pass the silence and did my best to ignore the glares he was sending me; I hated it when he did this, but he'd fizzle out soon as long as I didn't give him more ammo.

"I'm goin' out," he said finally. His voice was calmer. "Like I said earlier, if Dad asks, tell him I'm at Soda's. Savvy?"

I looked up and nodded.

He tapped my shoulder gently and gave me a weak smile. "See ya later, kid."

I hated it when he called me "kid", but it meant he was done yelling, so I accepted it.

When he was gone, Rosie reclaimed her seat. I could tell by the look on her face that she'd heard everything. "He's more like your old man than he realizes," she said finally.

"Don't have to tell me…"

"I could just slap him sometimes."

It sorta bothered me to hear her say that. He was an asshole, and he treated her pretty poorly, so he probably deserved whatever insult or blow she wanted to throw at him, but she could leave hitting him to our dad. If and when he found out about this, Steve would surely be dead meat. Besides, the whole situation was turning into one of things things where I felt caught in the middle. She always brought up how much he disliked her, and Lord knows, he repeatedly told me how much he hated her.

I think she caught my drift by the silence, and I was glad for it. I loved Rosie, but if I had to choose between the two of them, I'd pick him. No contest.

I was worried about him, so I guess it made me more edgy about it. Wondering what he had planned this time drove me crazy … I figured it might involve Soda, but I doubted it was simply going to his place. Any time he told me to tell Dad something, it was lie meant to cover his ass. Whatever it was, I hoped it wasn't a fight. He enjoyed his rumbles, but I didn't. I hated seeing him all bruised up afterwards, but he wasn't gonna stop anytime soon.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I don't own.

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Steve came home late that night, and I only knew, 'cause Dad's hollering woke me up.

I shoved a pillow over my head and tried to drown it out, but it was hopeless. Whenever they did this, I was sure the neighbors heard it, and what was worse was I felt partially responsible for this one. I'd told Dad exactly what Steve said to say, he was at Soda's, but when Dad didn't fall for it, I offered nothing to back it up.

It wasn't my fault Steve refused to crack though; that was solely his own. Dad asked him over and over again where he was, and he always said the same damn thing, same thing he told me. Maybe he really wasn't lying this time. _Maybe_, but I doubted it.

All I knew was the amount of self-determination it took to keep throwing the same unwanted answer in Dad's face stunned me. Perhaps Dad was impressed too, 'cause he didn't kick him out this time.

xxxx

**September 16th, 1966**

School was a drag the next day. It was Friday, but even that didn't lift my spirits. I was tired and crabby and certain the day was going to kill me before it ended.

"We're gonna be late if you don't haul ass." I leaned awkwardly against the locker next to Angela's and sighed loudly in hopes to speed her along.

She stood in front of a mirror, ignoring me, as she reapplied some eye shadow. "Two minutes 'til sixth period, Angel..." I added, trying to grab her attention.

She propped a hand on her hip and gave me a patronizing look. "Two minutes 'til sixth period?" She gasped and raised her eyes in a mock display of distress. "That's just awful!"

"C'mon, it ain't funny," I whined. "Grab your books and get goin'…" It really wasn't funny; the last thing I needed was another tardy.

"Oh, I'm sorry, Julia, you really wanna go to math today?"

I shrugged. "Guess I do."

"I know how much you _love_ math after all," she went on, raising her eyebrows.

I felt like slapping her. We had a test soon. She probably didn't care, but I did. It was only the first month of school, and little did she know, math was one of the few subjects I didn't mind sitting through. If she paid attention to what I told her, she'd recall I liked Mr. Stewart. He was funny and likeable. It was history I hated, not math.

Angela shoved a tube of lipstick, mascara, a magazine and pack of cigarettes in her purse. Going to class clearly wasn't on her mind. She tugged on my cardigan sleeve and rolled her eyes towards the back exit. "Know what I wanna do?"

I already knew what she wanted to do, so she didn't have to tell me. I shook my head to let her know it was a no go, but she ignored me and let out a small chuckle. "C'mon, let's get an early start to the weekend." She took a few steps, dragging me with her.

I sharply dug my feet into the school tiles to resist her pull. "Stop it," I said, but it was useless. I slid and nearly fell.

"Shh." She clapped her hand across my mouth, yanked me forward, and began to whisper. "Don't have a cow. Keep walking."

"No," I protested, but it was almost inaudible through her palm

She took her hand off my mouth and motioned for me to follow. I stood firm for a second. I wasn't going anywhere, not even Angela Shepard could make me, but when she motioned again, I reluctantly followed her out the doors.

Damn Angela. She always did this to me, and I already had a hard enough time saying no to _normal_ people. It wasn't so bad when we were kids when all we lived for were dolls and dress up, but then she grew up seven years last summer; had hips _and boobs_ to prove it. She was four inches taller than me, which was funny, 'cause I used to be an inch taller than her. But what wasn't funny was that she didn't have to rely on her nagging to get me to do anything anymore.

I sighed and resolved I needed to lighten up. Ditching once wouldn't kill me, and if math got hard, I'd just make Steve show me how to do all the problems later. Most people don't realize it, but behind the mounds of grease in his hair, there was a genius brain inside his head. Nothing was ever too hard for him, and nothing pissed me off more.

xxxx

"Remember I gotta be back soon," I reminded her hopelessly. "I can't miss history. Mrs. Fox'll call my dad or something…"

I glanced at her impatiently, but she didn't reply.

"Angel!" Still no reply.

I sighed and gave up. We were now seated at a local diner, and she was drinking black coffee while reading a fashion magazine she'd lifted from her mother. The coffee made her look so sophisticated and so did the makeup. The waitress even thought she was my big sister when we walked in.

"I think I need a new look." She flipped the magazine in front of me and pointed to a model with a pixie cut. "What do you think of her hair?

"It's … short."

"Yeah, _too short_," she agreed. "Looks good on her though." She flipped the page. "This one?"

"What's wrong with your hair now?"

"It's boring."

"I always thought your hair was neat." I wasn't just lying to appease her either; her hair was gorgeous, in the natural kind of way. She didn't even have to try, and it always looked amazing.

"It's boring and makes me look young." She sighed, flipping through more pages. "I need one that'll stand out."

_Not this again_. I rolled my eyes and tapped my fingers against the table. If by "stand out" she meant "make boys notice me", they already noticed her plenty; and any new hairdo probably wouldn't change what they stared at.

"You say somethin'?"

"Nope."

She glared at me for a moment, as though she could tell exactly what I was thinking. I sipped my coke and did my best to ignore it.

"Listen, Angel, I think we should go soon." I rummaged around my pockets and found enough change to cover the coke and a tip. I set it on the table and sighed. "It took us at least twenty minutes to walk here and…"

"You worry too much."

"Easy for you to say. Your parents don't care what you do!"

"For the last time, my parents don't _know_ what I do," she corrected me. "Neither does Tim, and they ain't gonna know, 'cause you're gonna keep your trap shut."

"Alright, alright."

I wished I could lie half as good as she could, but I couldn't. Not to Dad, not to Rosie, not to Steve. The reason I never got in trouble wasn't because I was too good not to; it was because I was smart enough to know I'd get caught no matter how hard I tried.

"Okay, maybe you're right, this place is gettin' boring." Angela stood up quickly and shoved the magazine back in her purse. "Wanna do something fun?"

"Depends on what "fun" is."

"Oh, you'll see." She had that look in her eye, and I had a feeling I was gonna skip history too.

xxxx

There it was—the fun she was talking about, makeup of all kinds. There were so many choices and so many brands in just one section of the drugstore.

According to Angela, makeup had the power to turn any ugly girl pretty. I wasn't so sure in my case, but when it came to make-up, I suppose she was to be trusted; after all, among the Greaser girls, Angie was the Queen of Junior High. Young as she was, she sure knew a lot about makeup, the opposite sex, and anything else you consulted her on.

"Pick one," she told me. "Might I suggest the Max Factor mascara?"

"But I got no money."

She smirked and moved closer to me. "What makes you think I meant buy it?" she said quietly.

I frowned. "Oh, c'mon, I'm _not_ doing that."

"Pipe down, idiot." She elbowed me.

"Sorry."

"Relax, the owner's old as dirt. Look at 'im." She pointed to him. "He's asleep for Christ's sakes. This place is a goldmine for free anything." She lowered her voice a complete whisper when she heard footsteps. "Now, the only one you gotta watch for is Barb. She's the manager, but as long as bozo's asleep, and she's on the opposite side of the store, you're in the clear."

I gave her a dirty look and shook my head.

"Hurry up," she said, nudging me. "I'll wait outside."

I sighed as she walked away.

Angela Shepard could go to hell. I wasn't gonna do it _period_, but the longer I stood there, the more enticing it became. I wanted makeup; I wanted to be pretty, like her, but the choices were overwhelming and I had no clue how they went on my face.

I finally grabbed some mascara, Angela seemed to like that the best, and moved to shove it in my pocket, but before I could, a hand stopped me.

_Shit_. I gasped and closed my eyes. This was it, Barb had caught me, but when heard a chuckle, I peered up and groaned.

Two-Bit smirked. "I got ya good," was all he said.

I frowned, half-relieved it wasn't the manager, half-annoyed my brother's friend had just played a cruel trick on me. He pried he mascara out of my hand, set it back, and drug me out of the store.

"Look, kid." He stifled a laugh as soon as we were outside. "If you're gonna steal, you gotta do it right. I mean, there's some basics rules you gotta understand… First you need to—"

"What're you doin' here?" I interrupted, but he just laughed more.

"You kidding me? That place is a goldmine for five-finger-discounts. The manager's half-stupid, and the owner's too old to notice anything."

"So Angela said."

"Man, if you can't pull off stealing from _there_, you shouldn't be stealing." He grinned and nudged my arm. He was getting way too much enjoyment out of this. "C'mon, I'll take you back to school."

"Angela's waiting on me."

"Well, she left," he said.

I glanced around for her, and when I saw he hadn't lied, I reluctantly followed him. She probably couldn't stand watching me hesitate like an idiot any longer or maybe another boy like Jake strolled along and caught her attention.

xxxx

Between the many detours and stopping to chitchat with people he recognized along the way, school was already over by the time we got back. During part of the journey, Two-Bit tried to school me in the art of stealing again, but I only half paid attention. His tips were probably the best anybody could ever get, but I didn't care. I wasn't ever gonna attempt to steal again.

When we got there, Steve was impatiently waiting. "About time," he said.

He gave Two-Bit a funny look. "And what're you doin' with my sister, man?" He was only half-joking when he said it; he probably did want to know.

"We were on a date," Two-Bit said all too eagerly.

Steve raised an eyebrow. "Don't ya think you can do a little better than him?"

"Hey, I'll have you know I'm quite the gentleman, Steve," Two-Bit piped up to defend himself.

I groaned already, wishing he'd just shut up, but Two-Bit was never one to shut up. "This damsel in distress here was gonna lift somethin' from my favorite drugstore," he went on, "but I rescued her from certain doom."

Steve patted him on the shoulder. "What an impressive feat. Somebody oughta knight you."

"And from hence forth, I shall be Sir Two-Bit, the …"

"Slothful," Steve finished.

I laughed right away, and either Two-Bit didn't get it or was still playing his part.

He turned to me and made motions to shoo me away. "If this is the thanks I get for rescuing you, then we're through, my lady!"

"Get lost, Two-Bit," Steve said, but he was smiling. "I'll see ya tonight."

"Yessir." He saluted Steve and split.

I just shook my head and got in the car.

"Okay," Steve said as soon he got in. "What were you doin' with Two-Bit?"

"Didn't he already tell you?"

"Mhmm, but half of that was bullshit, so I'd rather hear it from you."

Of course he would. "C'mon, Steve," I said. "You know we weren't… you know."

"No," he cut in quickly. "I did _not _mean that. God, I'm not that paranoid."

"Sometimes you are."

"Well, _sometimes_ it's justified," he insisted, and I fell silent. Something told me he was going to pester me until I told him the whole story, but I was going to prolong it as much as possible.

I moved to get out of the car quickly when we got home, but much to my dismay, he stopped me. "Hey," he said. "I meant that bit about stealing earlier. I wanna know more about that."

I sighed and shrugged.

"So tell me," he insisted. "How much of that was true and how much was Two-Bit's story?"

"I dunno, half and half," I said, figuring he'd buy it. Two-Bit's stories always had some truth behind them; they were just embellished.

"Weren't you s'pposed to be in school too?"

I glared at him, and he returned it. God, I hated being put on the spot like this; he was worse than Dad sometimes.

"Yeah, I ditched with Angela," I finally admitted.

I played with my shirt hem and avoided looking at him. He was starting to look pissed for real now, and I was getting nervous.

"You did what?"

I nodded and bit my lip.

"So you ditched with her," he said, making sense of it. "But then, there's this stealing part... what's that about?"

When I hesitated, he motioned for me to start talking.

"She kinda dared me to do it or somethin' like that, but I really wasn't gonna. Honest."

He gave me a look that said he didn't believe me. I kept quiet for a moment, hoping he'd change his mind, but when he didn't, I spilled everything. "Okay, so maybe I was," I said quickly, "but Two-Bit saw me and stopped me, and then he teased me about it forever."

"That all?"

I nodded.

"Wait." I held up my hand before he get word in. "He also tried to teach me how to steal the right way."

He rubbed his forehead and mumbled a couple cuss words under his breath. "That's _great_, Julia. You know, the whole thing is just fantastic. Especially the part about Angela. What a wonderful friend y'got there."

I sighed and bit my lip, wishing he'd just yell instead of the never-ending string of sarcastic comments. I hated that; it always made me feel real stupid.

"I don't like her," he said firmly. "And I don't even think I hafta explain myself on that one so I won't, but I'll say this… I don't like you hanging out with her. Ditch her now before she gets you into any real trouble."

"But she's my friend," I said weakly. "And you steal and cut school with your friends too."

He gave me an icy look. "That's different."

"_How_?"

"Well, I like to do that stuff and you don't. Nobody's making me do anything."

I frowned. How was he supposed to know if I liked it or not? Maybe I really I did.

"All I know is it ain't you, Jule," he went on. "And I can't become the good kid, so cut it out, dig?"

I nodded, and a long silence followed. I was frustrated, but mostly only because he was right. I wasn't one to break rules, so I shouldn't even try; it only ever ended in disaster.

"You gonna tell Dad?" I asked nervously.

He stared at me for a moment and then shook his head. "Do I ever rat you out?"

I opened my mouth, ready to throw the first instance I could think of in his face, but I couldn't think of any. Sometimes he bawled me out himself, sometimes even worse than he just had, but he never tattled on me.

That much I could depend on.


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I don't own.

* * *

Makeup was gonna be the bane of my existence.

I stood helplessly in front of my dresser mirror, really wishing I'd succeeded in getting that mascara before Two-Bit caught me and pried it out of my hand. I tied my pesky brown hair in a bun to get a better look at my face, and the longer I stared at myself, the more I decided I didn't just want makeup, I needed it. Sure, I looked better with my hair tied back—it was always sweeping in front of my face and just frizzed more when I tried to tame it—but my skin was still dull and unevenly freckled.

I rummaged through the dresser drawers and managed to find the makeup Rosie gave me on my twelfth birthday. While I'd stashed it away then, I was finally interested in using it. She'd given me lipstick, blush and eye-shadow in neutral colors and said it'd be good starter makeup. It definitely looked plain compared to what Angela wore, but maybe I just needed the mascara; that seemed like the most important part. All the models in the magazine had a lot of it on them, and if I wanted my eyes to look anything like theirs, it wasn't happening without mascara.

But who was I kidding, I couldn't even put the eye shadow on right, let alone fuss with anything else. I frowned at myself. The eye-shadow wasn't making the green in my eyes pop like Angela said it would; they still looked as plain and blue-gray as ever. I tried to darken it—the models' eyes were really bold, after all—but no matter what I did, it ended up looking worse.

Now there was way too much. It looked like I'd smeared ashes on my face, and I gave up. I grabbed a Kleenex and tried to blot it off, but it was hopeless; it wouldn't come off no matter how hard I rubbed.

I looked at my hands and groaned. I had nothing to apply the makeup with and figured I could just use them, kind of like finger-painting or something, and now I realized how stupid that idea was. There was makeup all over my fingertips, and it was rubbed in more than it was on my face.

I wanted to ask Rosie for help, she always make it look easy when I watched her, but I was afraid Dad would see it, take it away, and tell Rosie getting his twelve year old makeup for her birthday was a dumb idea.

I heard a knock on my door and jumped, hoping it wasn't Dad. I got up, opened it hesitantly and was relieved to see Steve.

"You're back early for a Friday night," I said.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm only gonna be here a minute."

Once in my room, he raised his eyebrows and grabbed my chin, lifting it up to get a better look at me. "What happened to your face?"

I batted his hand away. "What happened to yours?" I asked, noticing the black eye.

I curled my lip under my teeth, realizing that was an awful comeback. It was probably Dad's doing, and forcing him to talk would be mean, but much to my surprise, it wasn't Dad.

"Tim Shepard's fist, that's what." Steve was frustrated, yet somehow sounded less bitter than I would've guessed.

Ugh, anything that started Tim Shepard's fist sounded awful. "What'd you do?"

"Told 'im about Angela," he said casually.

I gave him a puzzled look. "But that don't make sense," I said. "Why'd he be mad at you instead of Jake. Or her?"

"Them too probably." He shrugged. "All I said was he'd better watch her close around the boys, 'cause she's pulling shit he don't know behind his back, and he asked if I was implying she was loose."

My eyes grew wide. "And what'd you say to that?"

"Told him he could take it however the hell he wanted, so he punched me."

"Well, no wonder!" I shoved him a little and gave him a dirty look. "That was stupid, Steve. You don't imply things like that when you're talkin' about a guy's sister."

"How else am I s'pposed to say it?" he asked. "Your sister's real _friendly_ with the guys? Don't matter. He'd still punch me."

"You're hopeless."

"Well, he's gonna do a heckuva lot worse to Jake." He smirked, and I could tell he was amused. "Once I told 'im that part, his face got all red, and I reckoned he might apologize if he was the kind of guy to do that."

"I should hope so. It was awful mean to punch you..."

Steve thought about it for a moment and shook his head. "Not really," he said. "I got a fair swing in, and if he'd told me you were doin' that kind of shit, I might punch him too."

Oh great. Another one of those _if it was you_ things. I hated it when he did that; it always resulted in unfair comparisons. I was nothing like Angela, and that was some messed up logic regardless of how you looked it at: _punch the messenger_. Yeah, that made a lot of sense. Go punch the guy when you're gonna go bawl out your sister courtesy of the information _he_ gave you. Thinking about it made me relieved I was a girl; boys' brains never made any sense.

"Anyway I came here for your help." Steve tapped my shoulder to make sure he had my attention. "Glory, I need it bad. It's Evie. You girls confuse the hell outta me."

I grinned at how serious he sounded. I shouldn't have found it funny, but I kind of liked it when he demanded my help in his girl troubles. It only got annoying when he expected me to know everything about the way they worked simply because I had ovaries.

"What's wrong with her?" I asked.

"Apparently it's our one year anniversary since we started dating tomorrow."

"And you forgot," I guessed.

"I didn't _forget_. I just don't get why it's so damn important."

I looked at him like he'd lost his mind, but he kept on rambling. "For Christ's sakes, I thought that shit didn't matter 'til you got married."

I rolled my eyes at him and wondered if he every realized he sounded like an asshole sometimes. Of course that was important to her, and what kind of idiot was he not to recognize it? "_Please_ tell me you didn't say that to her."

He stared at me blankly and then started cussing.

"You did, huh?"

"It's stupid," he insisted. "I tell her I love her and that she's pretty and all that shit you females live for all the time. Why's there gotta be a special day for anything?"

"Because, trust me, there does."

"Yeah, yeah, well, I forgot to get the night off and now she's pissed at me."

"And it's soooo hard to believe too."

"Would you can it and let me finish?"

"There's more? Holy shit, Steve… It's a wonder she hasn't broken up with you."

He gave me an irritated look, and I laid off a bit. "Okay, so say you're sorry," I told him. That might just work. He'd be amazed at how far a simple apology might get him if he bothered to try it.

He looked at me funny. "Can't I just buy her a nice gift? I was gonna ask you what to get her…"

I shook my head firmly. "Nope, don't get her a single thing. Just apologize."

He sighed and balled a fist.

"_Trust_ me, Steve," I said. "It'll mean more than any old thing you could buy her."

By the look on his face, I could tell he'd rather waste both his next paychecks on her than mutter a simple apology.

"So how 'bout your face," he said, changing the subject abruptly. "What'd you do to it?"

"Fussed with makeup," I grumbled.

"Why?"

"What do you care what I do with my face?" I asked, getting annoyed. "It's my face!"

"I dunno, don't you think maybe you're a little young to be wearin' makeup?"

I shrugged. "Other girls do it."

"Don't mean you should."

"Look, Steve, it's just makeup." I sighed. "And I don't even wanna wear it anymore. It's impossible to get off."

He glanced at the pile of Kleenexes on the dresser and laughed at me.

"It's not funny!"

He held one up and smirked. "Sorry, but it kinda is."

"Is not."

"Well, you're not gonna get it off your face with these, genius," he said, tossing it on the floor. "You need soap and water at the very least."

I folded my arms across my chest and pouted. "And you would know that how?"

"Please, kid, I've had to wait around on Evie dollin' herself up so many times... Let's just say, I know way more about makeup than I should."

xxxx

With his advice I managed to get it all off, and before Dad saw it too.

He leaned against the wall outside the bathroom, like he needed to see the proof it was gone. Glory, he was irritating.

"I thought you said you were only gonna be here a minute," I said, setting the washcloth near the sink.

"Yeah, I was," he agreed. "But that was before I realized you looked like a damn raccoon."

"Thanks a lot."

"Anytime." He grinned smugly. "You really do look better without that shit on your face."

I scoffed at that, but didn't say anything to argue. I was flattered, even if he was just saying it to make me feel better.

"Well, if it ain't the damsel in distress."

I glanced and saw Two-Bit walking down the hall way. He winked at me.

"Your gorgeous stepmomma let me in," Two-Bit said to Steve with an ear to ear grin. "And her brownies were delicious, man. When I get sick of cake, I'm crashing your place."

"She fed you?"

"Yup." He patted his belly, then roped and arm around Steve's shoulder. "Wait til you hear what I got planned for tonight," he said. "We are gettin' Muscles drunk!"

"Good luck with that one, buddy," Steve laughed.

"Don't need luck," Two-Bit said confidently. "It's happening. Dally got him to do some shots at Bucks, and he's gettin' pretty dang wobbly! Man, things started gettin' good after you left."

"Something tells me he'll skin you in the morning for this."

"If he remembers it."

I rolled my eyes at that and started walked towards my room. I didn't know Darry that well, but I was with Steve on this one. Steve was always saying Darry needed to cut loose and have a good time after his parents died, but there was no way Two-Bit's plan was going to end well for him. I mean, I'd seen firsthand what Darry did to Steve just for making a snide remark at him; something about being all brawn and no brains, and the guy wailed on him.

Before I reached my door, I felt a hand stop me. "Hey, damsel. Gotta ask you a favor."

"No way," I said right away, certain it'd be something really stupid.

"Aw, c'mon, kid. You owe me one for rescuing you!"

I sighed. "Fine."

"I knew you'd come around!" He patted my shoulder and smiled. "I just need you to come over to my place and keep the little sis company. Jus' for an hour or so. She looked all sad, and maybe the two of you can be best friends. Can you do that for me?"

I hesitated for a moment. I didn't know Rachel Mathews that well. Knew of her, knew Angela hated her, and that was about it.

Before I could say anything, Steve spoke for me. "We can drop her off on the way."

Thanks a lot, Steve. Guess that settled that. I'd have said something smart—I knew he was only eager to get me away from Angela— but Two-Bit sounded really sincere and almost a little worried, so I groaned inwardly and followed them reluctantly.

Maybe she needed a friend as much as me.


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: I don't own.

* * *

Steve and Two-Bit must've been excited about Two-Bit's "plans", 'cause they wasted no time rushing me to the door.

"Wait a minute." My dad held up his hand and got up from his armchair. "Where're you goin' with her?" He pointed to me and glared at Steve for an answer.

Before Steve or I said anything, Two-Bit approached him and smiled. "Oh, she just wants to hang out with my kid sister, Mr. Randle."

Dad scratched his chin but was oddly appeased by it.

"Aw, man." Two-Bit chuckled and patted Dad's shoulder. "I guess we were just so excited to leave, we forgot to tell you! I'm real sorry, sir. We should've asked you first. I assure it won't happen again…"

Dad nodded, but much to Steve's and my surprise, waved it off. "Well, I've always said she needed to get outta the house more." He ruffled my hair a bit and smiled. "Have fun, honey."

I glanced at Steve, and he shrugged. Neither of us understood it, but our father loved Two-Bit; he was under the misguided illusion that Two-Bit was a good influence on Steve.

"Steve." Dad reached out and grabbed his shoulder.

Steve whipped around to face him. "What?"

"Make sure she's back by midnight." His expression was cold and serious. "And that goes for you too. I'm sick and tired of this tumbling in here at four in the morning crap."

Steve looked annoyed but nodded. "I mean it, Steve," Dad emphasized before returning to his chair. "If you're not back by midnight, there'll be hell to pay." Something told me my stubborn brother was gonna ignore that and get us both in trouble, but maybe I just worried too much.

Steve prodded me forward, and in a short-lived burst of my own stubbornness, I lingered in the doorway just to annoy him. I still didn't wanna go. I was perfectly okay having Angela as my best friend, and if he didn't like that, it was his problem, not mine. It wasn't fair; I was being roped into this against my will, but in the end, I followed them. I always caved. It was my stamina against his, and he never lost.

There was nothing to do at home anyway, and if I had to be honest with myself, I was pissed at Angel. She'd ditched me after all, and it was getting harder and harder to call her my friend when all she cared about were those damn boys she wooed and dropped like flies.

Steve was right whether I liked it or not, and if she could do that to me, it was time to play her game. Angela hated Rachel, she never told me why, but I didn't need to know. All I knew was I was going to be Rachel's friend, maybe even best friend, just to piss off Angela.

xxxx

"So I oughta warn you, Julia," Two-Bit said, as we walked up to his house.

I gave him a look that said I wasn't interested, but he kept talking. "Rachel's kinda moody tonight. She's on the rag or somethin', but don't tell her I said that."

I sighed and shook my head. "You don't tell someone when you're sister's on the rag, Two-Bit. That's just cruel." I hadn't even gotten my period yet, and I knew that, and even if he meant she was just moody, he still shouldn't say that.

Two-Bit didn't say anything; that smirk turned into a grin and he opened the door for me.

"Ladies first," he said, and I rolled my eyes.

As soon as we were inside, Two-Bit found Rachel, drug her up to me, and didn't hesitate to introduce us. "Rachel, Julia. Julia, Rachel," he said, nudging me toward her.

I smiled and greeted her warmly, but she looked pissed. There was a scowl on her face, and she kept sending Two-Bit the nastiest looks. "You didn't need to set up a play date for me, Keith."

"I'm sorry, Rach. I can't hear you, Two-Bit doesn't go by that name."

She crossed her arms across her chest and wrinkled her nose. "He should go by that name because Two-Bit is a _stupid_ name."

He gave her a slight glare, and I couldn't help but laugh. I'd always thought Two-Bit was a dumb name too, but if you wanted him to pay any attention to you, you had to use it. Steve told me his own mother even called him that out of necessity.

Two-Bit cupped a hand behind his ear. "Did ya hear somethin', Steve?"

"Nope."

"I could've sworn I heard Rachel, but guess not! Must have wax in my ears."

"Shut up, Keith." She shoved him towards the door, and he stuck his tongue out at her.

"You two play nice now, y'hear?"

Rachel rolled her eyes and shooed him off.

Once they were gone, it was awkward and silent for what felt like forever, and all I could think of was that Rachel sure was nothin' like her brother. He was friendly and talkative, and she was the opposite; serious and quiet. I hated to say it, but I almost understood why Angela hated her.

"He sure is something, ain't he?" It was an awful attempt to break the awkwardness, but I couldn't stand it anymore. It was only eight-thirty, and I didn't want to be here until midnight if it was gonna be like this, but much to my surprise, she nodded.

"I really hate him sometimes," she said. "I love him, I do, but he's such a goddamned pain in the ass."

Her mother popped out of the kitchen and glared. "Rachel, language!"

"Sorry, Ma."

"I ain't gonna remind you again." She shook the dishtowel she was holding at her. "And did that brother of yours just leave? I missed him again, didn't I?"

Rachel nodded, and Mrs. Mathews's face grew red. "I'm gonna kill him when he gets home." She shook her head, and her curly red hair bounced as she did. "Told him he wasn't goin' nowhere before he cleaned up his messes, but does he listen to me? Nope. All these dishes were his responsibility, and he ain't ever cooking again." It didn't sound like she was talking to anybody in particular, and that made it even more amusing. There was fire behind every inch of her short stature, and Steve really wasn't lying when he said Two-Bit's mom was feisty. He'd said she could be the scariest five-foot broad he'd ever known.

Rachel must've found it entertaining too, 'cause she was giggling.

"Oh my, where're my manners? Excuse me, hun." Mrs. Mathews waltzed back into the living room. There were suds on her shirt and she looked flustered. "I haven't even introduced myself. Julie, right?"

"Julia, actually," I corrected. "But's that's okay. Some people call me Julie."

"Well, it's nice to meet you, Julia." She held out her hand and smiled kindly.

"Nice to meet you too, Mrs. Mathews," I said, shaking her hand.

"Oh please, call me Beth," she insisted. "I hate being formal."

I smiled back; it was easy to see where Two-Bit got his charm.

"I'll be in the kitchen cleaning up after Tornado Two-Bit if you girls need me," she said, fleeting off again. "And don't just sit there, Rachel," she added. "Be a good hostess to your guest."

Rachel sighed and walked up to me. "Welcome to the chaos," she said. "You've met my crazy brother, and that's my crazy mom."

"I can see that," I agreed with her, even though I didn't think it was that bad. My house was worse. My dad never introduced himself to my friends like that. Rosie did, sure, but there was just something about Mrs. Mathews—well, Beth—that I liked. She seemed like a real mother; by the way she looked at Rachel, and the way she rambled about Two-Bit. She really cared about these kids, and while I didn't doubt that Rosie cared about me, she never had that "Mom" vibe about her. She didn't scold me for cussing or get mad at me for not cleaning up my messes; not that I wanted her to, but I wished I knew what it felt like to have a real mom. I'd never known mine. She died before I was even a year old, and neither Steve nor Dad would talk about her no matter how many times I asked them.

Girls like Rachel didn't know how lucky they were. I didn't mind Angela whining about her mom, because her mom could be awful mean, but Beth seemed decent; Beth seemed like the kind of Mom I'd want to have.

"It's too bad Two-Bit didn't stick around longer. It's real funny when she goes off on him."

"Oh yeah?" I asked. I never thought it was funny when my Dad went off on Steve.

She nodded. "He'd slap me if he knew I told you this, but he gets scared of her sometimes. She's even made him cry once or twice." She laughed as she said it, and I immediately decided I had to come over more often _just_ to see that.

We ended up talking about lots of things; girl things, how much we hated Mrs. Fox, and Angela. I didn't want to gossip about Angela behind her back, but it was just too tempting. Rachel told me about the time they'd had to work on a project for school together; apparently that was when Angela started hating her. It sounded like a nightmare. Rachel seemed like she cared about school an awful lot, and Angel, well, let's just say school was more of a social thing for her. She was smart, but she just didn't care, and that didn't bode well with Rachel. I felt her pain. If I'd have been paired with Angela, I'd have probably just done the whole project by myself, but Rachel wasn't the type to suffer in silence.

I guess she was a Mathews after all.

xxxx

**September 17th, 1966**

I had a great night at the Mathews, but leave it to Steve to spoil that. He didn't show up when he was supposed to; in fact, it was one-thirty by the time he rolled around.

"Thanks a lot," I told him on the way home. "I'mma get in trouble too now, and it's all your fault."

"I already told you I'm taking the blame for it. Just go to your room when we get home, and I'll deal with him."

"No." As mad as I was, I didn't want him to face the wrath alone.

"No what? What makes you think I wanna get you in trouble? Just listen to me and everything'll be fine."

I didn't say anything. I just sat there and stared out the car window.

"I swear to God, Julia…"

"Swear to God, what?"

"Just listen to me, damn it."

"Fine."

And I did, too. When we got home, I went straight for my room, but much like I suspected, it didn't make a bit of difference.

"Julia, get your ass back here."

I looked at my father and then at Steve. The look on my father's face said I was dead meat if I didn't come back; the look on my brother's face said he'd kill me if I didn't keep going.

Steve bobbed his head towards my door. "Go," he said. "I already told you, damn it. _Listen_."

But I didn't go. I loitered in the hallway, a safe jaunt from my room if I needed to seek refuge.

"You think you can tell her what to do, huh?" Dad got in Steve's face and grabbed a fistful of his shirt.

"Damn right." Steve shoved him. "If you were a better father, I wouldn't have to."

I cringed. This wasn't gonna end good for Steve. I wanted to run, but I couldn't. My feet were firmly planted and wouldn't let me move.

Dad motioned for me sternly. "Julia, come here."

Steve shook his head at me, and Dad threw him against the wall.

"Come here," he repeated, and too afraid not to listen, I did. When I was in arm's reach, he yanked me to his side. "Tell your brother how good of a father I am to you," he said, and I could smell the whiskey in his breath.

I hesitated and kept silent. I expected a cuff upside the head, but he was being far more patient with me than he was Steve. It wasn't unusual. He wasn't awful to me, at least not in the way he was to Steve, but he wasn't great either. He wasn't there for me in the same way my brother was. He cared about me and loved me deep down, but he didn't offer the emotional support I wanted and needed.

Steve and I had long history of being close. After our mom died, we spent several years being tossed between relatives before our father finally felt up to the task of raising us. I was young, but the one thing I always remembered was Steve looked after me.

He never let me down, and for that reason, I couldn't tell Dad what he wanted to hear.

"Your brother thinks he can boss you around," he went on. "What do you think of that?"

I shrugged and tried to break away, but he pulled me back.

His fingers were digging into my arm, and at a complete loss for words, I started to cry.

"Answer me."

I hesitated again, and he slapped me.

The blow hit me so hard, I stumbled and fell. I rubbed my cheek and stopped crying out of shock. He'd never hit me like this—sure he'd spanked me a handful of times, but he'd never slapped me across the face like this. He'd actually _slapped_ me.

"Answer me," he demanded again, and I stood up slowly, staggering to keep my balance. My cheek stung so bad, and he'd knocked the wind out of me so I couldn't even speak if I wanted to.

He grabbed my arm and glared at me. He was gonna do it again, I knew it. I just knew it. I closed my eyes and prepared myself for the blow, but instead of being slapped, I was jerked backwards.

I flinched and began to panic until I realized it was Steve. He'd ripped me out of Dad's grip and pulled me close to him. Petrified, I clung to him. "Go to your room," he told me roughly and released me with a shove in that direction.

This time I listened to him. I ran and locked the door behind me. I pressed my ear to the door and listened carefully, certain I'd heard Dad punch him, but the fight didn't last nearly as long as I'd expected. Steve said something to him. I couldn't make out what, but it was harsh and rendered our father speechless.

The front door slammed and loud footsteps approached the room. I was nearly certain Dad was the one who'd left, but I panicked regardless until I heard Steve's voice.

He banged on the door and demanded I let him in, and when I did, he looked furious.

"Next time I tell you to do something, you fucking do it, all right?"

He was glaring at me, and I began to cry again, but the tears seemed to have no effect on him. He just kept yelling.

"God, Julia. That all could've been prevented if you just listened…" He ran a hand through his hair. "How could you be so damn stupid?"

I shrugged, and he sat on my bed, planting his forehead into the palms of his hands. He was still angry and trying to calm down.

"I'm sorry, Steve," I said, but he ignored me.

"Steve…"

"Shut up," he hissed. "Or maybe I'll hit you too."

I knew he didn't mean it, but it still hurt; it almost hurt as much as if he had hit me. I shut up, and backed myself up against the wall. I slid down it and sat on the floor with my knees pulled to my chest and cried.

It seemed like forever before Steve got up and crouched down in front of me

"Julia." I looked up, but too frustrated to look at him, I buried my face back into my knees.

He moved beside me and wrapped an arm around my shoulder. I tried to push him away, but his grip was strong. "You okay?" he asked.

I shook my head, refusing to look up. Of course, I wasn't okay. My father had just slapped me for the first time ever, and he'd been acting like a jackass because I didn't listen to him.

He knew I was upset, but still, he sat there, stubbornly waiting for me to come around. It annoyed me, but I eventually caved, just like I always did. I rested my head against his shoulder and allowed him to comfort me.

He pushed the hair out of my face and smiled weakly. "I scared you too, didn't I?"

I wanted to lie, he looked concerned, but I just couldn't lie to him.

"A little."

He nodded and tightened his grip around me.

"Steve?" I asked after a few minutes. "What'd you say to Dad?"

He glanced at me, confused. "What do you mean, kiddo?"

"Why'd he storm out like that?

"Oh that." Steve sighed and dismissed it. "We're not gonna talk about that."

"Why not?"

"Because we aren't, goddamnit," he insisted. "Don't piss me off again."

I nodded, and despite my best efforts, teared up again.

"Ah, jeez, kid." He squeezed my shoulder. "No more crying outta you."

I rubbed at my eyes. "I can't help it."

"I know," he said gently. "But if I tell you what I said, you're just gonna bawl more."

Now I was really intrigued. "Why?"

"No," he said firmly. "Forget about that for tonight."

I said nothing and dropped it. It was getting late, and I half-expected him to leave and go to bed, but he didn't. He stuck by me.

"Well, maybe it's time I told you," he said, and I gave him a puzzled look.

"Told me what?"

"You know how you're always asking about Mom?"

I nodded.

"I think it's time you knew the truth."


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: I don't own.

* * *

I stared at Steve awful hard, and he hung his head down and sighed.

"Steve?"

"Gimme a minute, okay?"

I didn't want to, but I nodded.

It was aggravating. I'd waited on this ever since I figured out Dad was bullshitting me a couple years ago. I was sick of being lied to; Dad always said my mom got sick and passed on when I pestered him enough to actually say something, left it at that nothin' more, but I just wanted to know _why_ and I didn't think it was wrong to want that.

The tension was unbearable. Steve looked so nervous, it made _me_ nervous. I leaned against his arm and waited as patiently as I could for him to talk, knowing he might lose his cool if I rushed him.

My patience didn't last long. "You don't have to tell me nothin', Steve," I said, hoping to god it'd push him to tell me anyway. I'd learned a long time ago that if you told him he didn't have to, he'd want to, just to prove he could or somethin' dumb like that. All I knew was it worked.

"No, I do," he said firmly. "Dad'd be content to keep it a secret from you for eternity, and I ain't okay with that. You're a smart girl, you gotta know he's lying, right? I mean, it's time somebody was straight with you, and it sure as hell ain't gonna be him, so whether you like it or not it's gonna be me."

I folded my arms tightly and stared at the floor; he was getting pissed again, and I should've held my tongue.

"I thought you'd wanna know anyway."

"I _do_," I insisted. "And I can't take it anymore, so just tell me already."

The few seconds that followed were the longest in my life. "It was a suicide," he said finally. "She killed herself, Julia."

I tried to wrap my head around it, but I couldn't_. She killed herself_. Those three little words would hang over me like a nuclear fallout for quite some time.

My breath hitched, and the waterworks started again. "But why?"

"Same reason most people do, I guess," he said. "She was sad."

"Why?"

"I dunno, Jule," he said impatiently. "She got married young maybe? Dad ain't exactly a knight in shining armor."

I glared at him; that pissed me off long enough to cease the tears. Dad was mean sometimes, but he wouldn't drive somebody to do that. If it were true, Steve'd be dead by now. Dad was a good person deep down, and even though he'd just hit me, it was moments like these were I realized Steve got what was coming to him sometimes.

"Quit lookin' at me like that."

"Like what?"

He ran his hands through his hair and grumbled. "Glory, you can't ever take an answer for an answer, can you?"

I wiped a few tears off my cheek and turned away. It was quiet. We still sat beside each other, but neither of us said a word.

"Alright, Jule, I'll tell ya," he cracked finally. He tapped my shoulder and forced me to look at him. "But after tonight, I don't _ever_ wanna talk about what I'm gonna say again, got it?"

I nodded.

"I mean that," he insisted. "This is it."

I nodded again.

"We had a brother," he said, and it was the first time anybody had ever told me that.

I stared at him wide-eyed, and he went on, his voice was shaking as he spoke. "Jesse was about a year an' a half older than you." He sighed and hugged me close, and I sensed this time it was as much for him as it was me. "Ma told me to keep an eye on you two so she could take a nap, and while I was busy tryin' to get you to stop fussing—glory, you were always a crier—Jesse got in under the sink and drank something. I don't remember what, but it killed him. She never got over that, blamed herself… Hell, I don't even remember how she did it either. I was six for Christ's sakes."

Steve fell silent after that, and if I didn't know any better, I'd say he blamed himself too. He was mighty angry, and I guessed it was to keep himself from bawling.

One look at his eyes said everything. There was so much sadness and bitterness behind that cold stare, and in that moment, I wanted to pull myself together and say something comforting to him. It was least I could do. He was being strong for me, and after what he'd just unintentionally admitted to me, I felt guilty. I rubbed at my eyes in a pathetic attempt to stop the tears from coming back, but I couldn't.

It was too much. First, the suicide, and now a family member I hadn't even known about. What else were they lying to me about?

"Don't say nothin' to Rosie," Steve warned. "She don't know."

"That's pretty fucked up," I said, and it might've been the first time I ever vocalized the word. It was worth it though. Dad was married to her, and you just didn't hold that kind of stuff from your wife, not to mention daughter.

"Just don't, okay?" He glared at me. "And don't cuss like that either."

"But you say that…All the _fucking_ time."

"I'm a guy, that's different."

"That ain't fair."

"Life ain't fair."

I wanted to smack him; this was serious stuff, and he wanted to bicker with me about cursing. I couldn't believe that, but more importantly, I couldn't believe that this had happened twelve years ago, and never once had anybody bothered to say a word to me. I was angry—I was furious at Dad, and even Steve—but mostly I was just sad. Sad to think my mom could do that to herself. I didn't understand how anybody could do that to themselves, especially if they had children like me who'd need them one day.

I don't think I'd ever cried this hard; I was so frustrated and upset at the same time.

Steve stood up and pulled me to my feet. "C'mon, it's late," he insisted. "You need some sleep."

"I don't think I'mma be able to," I said.

"Just try, Jule." He guided me to my bed, and I was so exhausted, I didn't even care that I was still in my street clothes. I kicked my shoes off and crawled into bed, yanking the covers over myself. I shoved my head into my pillow and kept crying.

I expected Steve to leave, but instead, he sat beside me and stayed there until I finally fell asleep

xxxx

I woke up to Rosie and Dad fighting. I rubbed my eyes and lay in bed, listening to it for a moment. They were being so loud I could hear every word through our paper thin walls.

"Maybe if you didn't blow your paychecks on your hair and nails we wouldn't be in this mess!" Dad boomed.

When Rosie spoke again, her tone had gone from simply annoyed to hacked fast. "I get that done for free, you ass," she said.

"How the hell does that work?"

"I got friends in beauty school, and I don't wanna hear a damn word about anything I spend 'til you admit it's you too!"

"What's there to admit? I'm the one who works sixty hours."

"You got a lotta nerve talkin' to me about wasting money, Charlie," she shrieked. "I mean, you kick your own damn son out twice a week and _pay_ him with he comes back. Can't you just send him to his room like a normal father?"

"How I raise my kids is none of your damn business."

"I've been their stepmom long enough, haven't I?" There was so much venom in her voice, and it never ceased to amaze me how she could stand up to him like that. "Your parenting skills are shit."

"And yours are any better?"

"I'll tell ya one thing, I wouldn't yell at Julia like you did last night." I cringed at my name, but couldn't help myself from listening. "If I ever have to listen to somethin' like that again, I swear… You make me sick sometimes."

"Then maybe you should just leave," he spat, and my heart beat faster. He couldn't do that to her; they loved each other.

"Is that what you want, Charlie?" she asked.

"No, but it's what you want, ain't it?"

"I ain't answering that," she said crossly.

They got silent, and I heard the door slam again, much like it had last night.

Rosie and Dad fought, but never like that. I thought about the last words they'd said to each other and wondered if they meant anything or if it was just blowing off steam. I really hoped it was the later. I felt more tears in my eyes, but I gritted my teeth and fought them back; I'd cried enough this weekend.

"It's past noon, Julia." Rosie burst through my door and grabbed my arm. "Time to get up, you're burning daylight."

"I'm still tired," I whined, resisting her pull.

"Now," she insisted.

I looked at her like she'd lost her mind.

"Just another hour," I begged.

"No, now."

She glared at me, and I pouted, not liking it one bit, but she looked flustered enough to get pissed, so I listened. I wondered if that argument had anything to do with her suddenly deciding to become authoritative.

I pushed my frazzled, bedhead hair out of my face and followed her into the kitchen where she demanded I eat something. I wasn't hungry though. I picked at the toast she made me and sipped the orange juice.

She sat down beside me. "You need to eat, sweetie," she said, pointing to the food.

I frowned and pushed the plated away. "I ain't hungry."

"Why not?" she said, pushing it back in front of me.

I shrugged. "Just 'cause."

The look she gave me unnerved me. She wasn't mad, but it was enough to make me pick at the toast again.

Rosie was pleased with herself, and I hoped this wouldn't become a trend. I wanted a real mom like Beth Mathews, but this was weird, and I couldn't decide if it was the kind of weird I could get used to or not. Steve wouldn't like her trying to be my mom, that was for sure.

"You okay?"

"I dunno," I said, and if there weren't a genuine hint of concern in her voice, I'd have ignored it.

"Talk to me," she insisted, and I froze. I couldn't even if I wanted to. I could start with Dad slapping me last night, but I couldn't tell her the real reason I was upset. I couldn't tell her about my real mom or Steve might kill me, and I sure as hell couldn't tell her I'd heard her and Dad fight, 'cause I probably wasn't supposed to be eavesdropping.

I wiped a stray tear off my cheek. "I can't."

"Oh, c'mon. You can tell me anything, sweetie. You know that."

I shook my head. I wanted to so bad, but this time I really couldn't.

She kissed my forehead and held my hand in hers. "I know about what happened last night," she said gently.

She didn't know the half of it, but she was trying. I'd give her that.

"I won't let your dad do that again," she said firmly. "I promise."

I wasn't so sure about that. I might've believed Steve if he said it, but he wasn't dumb enough to promise something he couldn't guarantee.

xxxx

I spent the entire afternoon sulking around and feeling sorry for myself. After last night, I felt entitled. Dad never came back, Steve was working, so it was just me and Rosie, and boy did she ever fawn over me. It was annoying, but I let her. She painted my nails and let me read her _Cosmopolitan_ magazines.

They were a lot dirtier than _Tiger Beat_ and _Seventeen_. I skipped over the sexy parts and paid more attention to the makeup, only allowing myself to occasionally peak out of curiosity. I'll bet Angela and Candy read those parts all the time.

Speaking of Angela, she showed up, and much to my dismay, Rosie invited her in.

"Hey," she said, her eyes peering down on me.

"Hey."

She smirked when she noticed the magazine I was reading. "That's pretty bad for you."

"Shut up." I shut the magazine and shoved it aside.

"Sorry about yesterday." She rolled her eyes as she said it. "And tell your brother _thanks_ from me."

I wondered if Tim's reaction had anything to do with why she was apologizing, but I accepted it anyway. I was still pissed at her, but I didn't like us not getting along. We'd been friends since forever, and it had felt wrong to gossip about her yesterday.

"Wanna go to the drive-in with me an' Candy?" she asked. "Her sister said she'd take us."

I hesitated for a moment and glanced at Rosie, hoping she'd have some excuse for why I couldn't go, but instead she urged me. "You should," she insisted. "Go on, you'll have fun."

"Alright," I agreed finally.

"Be back by ten," she said.

I nodded and reluctantly followed Angela out the door.

We walked a few blocks and approached a car parked on the curb. Candy's sister, Margo, wasn't in the driver's seat.

I glared at Angela. "What's goin' on?" I huffed.

"You'll see."

"No! You're not pulling this shit again." I was furious. I had no clue what she wanted to do, and any time that happened, bad things were sure to follow.

"Well, did you think your stepmom was gonna let you go if I told her it was a date?"

So that was her plan, a date. God, I couldn't believe her sometimes. "No way, Angela," I said firmly.

She put an arm around my shoulder and smiled. "C'mon, I feel bad for ditching you yesterday, and I wanna make it up to you."

She pouted, but I stood my ground. "No."

"Please?"

"No."

"Just meet him first," she pleaded with me. "Leslie's a nice guy. He's shy, just your type." She opened the car door for me and pointed Leslie out.

I was expecting some hunk my brother's age, but Leslie was anything but. He looked nervous and _young_; maybe even my age young. Angela had definitely conned him into this, and the thought relaxed me some.

He was so awkward, he couldn't even look at me; Angela was right, he was shy like me. Maybe I could do this. He seemed harmless.

I contemplated going back for a split second, but all I was gonna do at home was sulk, and I deserved to have some fun.


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: I don't own.

* * *

I think Les and I were the only ones who actually watched the movie. It was _Lt. Robinson Crusoe U.S.N _with Dick Van Dyke and Nancy Kwan. Angela probably thought it was a kid movie, but I didn't care. Nancy Kwan was really pretty, and I'd read Robinson Crusoe twice last summer.

Angela, however, saw the movie differently. For her it was nothing more than the perfect opportunity to swap spit with James Hill while Tim could go on thinking she was innocently attending a Disney film. She was brilliant; cruel, but brilliant, and I was glad I wasn't Tim.

James Hill just so happened to be Les's older brother, and apparently Angela had told James she wouldn't go out with him unless he came up with a date for me, so of course James forced his little brother into it. Les told me that right away, right after he insisted I call him Les instead of Leslie on account of Leslie sounded like a girl's name. His face was all red when he said, and I decided he was kind of cute, even with his crooked teeth and messy hair, not to mention he didn't bug me during the movie or try to make the moves on me. That was a huge plus, and it made the "date" not only bearable but fun too.

"Well, ain't you gonna kiss him?" Candy teased when Les left to go to the bathroom. "I think he likes you."

"Shut up, Candy. He's just nice."

She leaned on her date and smirked at me. "You're a such a goody-goody, Julia. It's cute."

I turned around and ignored her. Candy was a bigger bitch than Angela even, and if Angela weren't friends with her, I probably would steer clear of her. She, like Angela, had gotten her curves and knew how to flaunt them, and if I didn't know any better, I'd say Angela learned from her. Angela used to never be like this. Maybe she was just growing up, but sometimes I liked to think it was all Candy's fault.

"Hey, Jule, wanna go to a party at Joe's?" Angela smiled at me.

"No thanks." Joe was Candy's date, and I'd heard about the things that went down at his place.

"C'mon," she whined. "Live a little."

I sighed. "Ain't this living enough?"

Candy snorted and waved her hand patronizingly. "She ain't gonna go, Angel. She thinks she's too good for us."

Angela glared at her. "Be nice."

"You be nice," Candy shot back. "You're the one who called her a stuck up yesterday."

"Did not!"

"She's just sayin' that 'cause you're here, Julia," Candy went on. "You should hear the things she says behind your back."

I didn't say anything. Even if I was positive Candy might be lying, it stung. I glanced at Angela, and her face was beet red and she narrowed her eyes; obviously she'd taken great offense to that.

She approached Candy and shoved her shoulder. "If you think that's bad, you should hear what I say about _you_ behind your back."

"Liar," Candy spat.

Angela turned to me and smirked. "Julia, tell her what I say."

She'd honestly never said anything, but in the heat of the moment, I spit out of the nastiest thing I could think of. "She said you needed to wash the sand out of your twat." I'd overheard Steve say that about Sylvia Jordan once. I didn't know much about her, but apparently he didn't think too highly of her.

"And that ain't even the worst of it," Angela added, looping her arm around my shoulder.

I felt really superior in that split second, even if I was crushed Angela probably did talk about me behind my back, but at least no one could say anything bad about me to her face.

Candy shuffled her feet awkwardly and had giant scowl on her face. "So are we goin' to the party or what?" she asked Angela in a sloppy attempt to save face.

"You coming Julia?" Angela asked me again.

I thought about it real hard. Angela standing up for me almost made me say yes, but I shook my head.

"Fine." Angela shrugged and booked it with the rest.

It was just that parties made me nervous; there were so many people, and everybody drank. I'd only ever drank once, and had no intentions of doing it again. I was spending the night at Angela's, she'd stolen a bottle of whiskey from her stepfather, and somehow convinced me to drink it. It tasted awful, and the three small swigs I'd had were enough to get me drunk. Of course, Tim caught us and had a connipshit. He took me home after bawling out us, and I was damn lucky Steve answered the door and managed to keep me hidden from our father until I was sober, but man, did he ever let me have it the next day. I swear that was the most he'd ever yelled at me in my entire life.

"Sorry, Julia, I wandered in the wrong direction and got lost." Les was looking at his feet as he said it. Man, was he ever a nervous kid.

"Don't worry about it.

He glanced around. "They left without us, didn't they?"

I nodded, and he looked so sad. "There were goin' to a party," I told him. "I'm sorry. I just told them I didn't wanna go, but I should've waited to ask you…"

"No, it's fine," he said quickly, and the relieved look on his face reassured me. "James drags me along to parties sometimes, but I don't like it."

"Me neither."

He smiled. "Glory, I thought you was gonna be like Angela or Candy," he said. "I'm glad you ain't."

"Thanks." I smiled back.

"Can I walk you home?"

"I'd love that."

We started walking but didn't make it very far before Les stopped me. "I think someone's tryin' to get your attention," he said.

I turned to see who it was, and it was Sodapop.

Soda waved at me, pointed to Les and gave me a thumbs up. I groaned, he was poking fun at me now, but he was probably gonna tell Steve about this later. At least Steve had to work and wasn't with him now, because that sure as hell wouldn't have been pretty.

"Who's that?" Les asked.

"My brother's best friend. Just ignore him."

Les kept walking, but much to my dismay, Soda caught up to us. "You're gonna leave without sayin' hi to your favorite second brother in the whole wide world?" he teased.

I frowned. As of last night, I had a real second brother, and Soda wasn't it.

"Who's your little friend here?" he asked.

"His name's Les."

"Hey, Les. I'm Sodapop."

Les gave him a funny look. "Is that you real name?"

"Sure is."

"Well, it's nice meeting you Sodapop, but I gotta walk her home now."

Soda nearly doubled over he was laughing so hard. I didn't know why he found it funny, but apparently it was hilarious. "Oh, Julia, you're dating quite the gentleman, huh?"

He smirked at Les, whose face was blushing.

"We're not dating," I said. "We just went to a movie."

"Yeah," Les agreed weakly.

"Good, 'cause she's got a real scary brother, you know," Soda said, approaching Les. He clapped his hand on the poor kid's shoulder and grinned. "I seen him take out two guys at the same time with his bare hands, and one time he held off a bunch of Socs with a busted glass bottle."

"Thanks, Soda," I said bitterly.

"Oh, I'm just gettin' started. You should see him in action sometime, Les. It's downright terrifying."

"I think I'd rather not…" Les said quietly. "I told Julia I'd walk her home, so we'd best be on our way."

"Quite the gentleman indeed."

"Shut up." I eyed Soda crossly, and he just chuckled more.

"See ya later, lovebirds."

"Bye Soda." I grabbed Les's arm and rushed us out of there. "I'm sorry about that," I said, as soon as we were a good block away.

"Is your brother really that scary?" he asked me, and I sighed. God, he was actually freaked out about this.

"Sometimes," I admitted. "But I think maybe he'd like you. You don't wanna date me, so he might give you a fair chance." It was half a lie; I hadn't dated anybody, let alone had a friend who was a guy, so I had no idea how he'd react. My best guess was he wouldn't pause to see reason. He'd just scare the shit out of the guy somehow and I'd never be able to get married as a result.

"I hope so," Les said. "I kinda like you. I mean, not in that way, but I don't have a lot of friends."

He looked at his feet sheepishly. Steve better not get bent out of shape about this; Les was even more clueless than I was about this kind of thing. He was so painfully awkward, it made me feel better about being awkward. There was no way he'd tried anything.

"Hey, it's okay, Les," I spoke up. "I don't have many either. Just Angela, and this Rachel girl kinda…" I trailed off thinking about Rachel. God, she was gonna be pissed I hung out with Angela tonight. They hated each other so much, and I realized right then how hard it'd be to keep them both as friends. I hated girls sometimes, and having a guy for a friend seemed like it'd be so much easier.

In fact I liked Les so much I led him on the scenic route home. I knew I was gonna be late, but it was likely only Rosie would be waiting for me, so I wasn't too concerned.

Les and I talked about lots of things as we walked. We both liked to read, and he told me about how he liked to draw. I thought that was really neat. He also told me about how mean his brother was to him, and it made me feel kind of lucky to have Steve as mine. He was kind of a jerk sometimes, and dating was gonna be a nightmare with him around, but he didn't force me to go to parties with him or try to get me to do bad things. Only Angela did that, and Steve hated her for it. James seemed like an asshole, and it was no wonder Angela fell for him. She had a thing for the bad boys.

"Well, I'm here," I said when we finally reached my place. "I'm already a little late, so I better hurry."

"I'll see ya in school, I guess."

"For sure," I agreed. "I had a lotta fun tonight, Les. Thanks."

"Me too," he agreed. "See ya later."

"Bye!" I waved at him as he went and sighed.

I never thought it could happen, but maybe I _did_ have a crush on him.

I slipped inside, trying to go unnoticed, but Rosie stopped me. "I thought I told you ten o'clock, young lady." She raised an eyebrow, and I groaned.

I didn't like this bossy new Rosie _at all._

"Sorry. I kinda lost track of time," I said, hoping she'd come off her high horse and be herself again, but no such luck.

"It's nearly eleven-thirty."

"I already said I'm sorry," I said and tried to make a break for my room.

She pulled me back. "I'm not done talking to you." If she wasn't pissed earlier, she was definitely pissed now.

"Ugh, it ain't a big deal!" She was really starting to get on my nerves. "I was just having a little fun. I thought you wanted me to have fun."

"I was worried."

"It was only an hour."

"Hour an' a half," she corrected me. "And you ain't one not to listen, so an hour an' a half had me worried sick."

"I don't like this…" I said bitterly.

"Don't like what?"

I crossed my arms and pouted. "You can't just start … bossing me around like this."

"Well, you listen to your brother when he bosses you around, so why not your stepmom?"

Now I was really annoyed. That was different, and she knew it; Steve had been bossing me around since I was a baby probably. I was used to it.

"Besides, your father ain't home right now, but I can assure you he wouldn't be happy with you bein' late like this."

"So what're _you_ gonna do about it?"

She glared at me. "Don't get mouthy."

I glared back. "Go to hell, Rosie."

I rolled my eyes and started to walk away, but what she did next shocked me; she grabbed my arm in one hand and swatted my behind with the other a couple times.

"Ow!" I protested. "You can't do that."

"I'm your stepmother," she said. "I can punish you if I damn well please, so don't tell me what I can and can't do!"

It was official; that fight with Dad had really done a number on her, and she'd completely lost her mind. She'd never laid a hand on me before this.

"Go to your room," she said sternly and pointed in her finger in that direction.

I ignored her at first, but then she smacked me again. "I said go to your room."

"Fine." I sighed and listened hesitantly.

I slammed the door behind me and shoved my head into my pillow. I couldn't believe she'd actually spanked me; it was the most parental thing she'd ever done to me, and I hoped she'd never have the nerve to do it again.

_Especially_ after that promise about my dad she'd made me.


	7. Chapter 7

Disclaimer: I don't own.

* * *

**September 18th, 1966**

"I'm sorry, Julia." It was the second time she'd said it today, but the looks she was giving me were apologies in themselves, and if I hadn't felt so stubborn about it, I might've accepted it.

"Please eat, honey," she said, setting my lunch in front of me.

I took a few small bites, and even though I was hungry, shoved the food around the plate to annoy her.

She took a seat and stared at me. "Julia, this is getting ridiculous," she said. "You haven't eaten anything in two days."

I frowned. I'd always been a picky eater, and she was just picking more bones with me. I didn't just dislike bossy Rosie, I _hated _bossy Rosie.

"Why're you acting like this?" she asked with a heavy sigh.

"Like what?"

"Like a spoiled brat," she replied, and I glared at her. "If your father were home, you'd be in a lot of trouble."

"Who cares."

I'd silenced her for a few seconds, but then she went on about the food again. "Eat," she insisted, pointing to the globs of untouched noodles.

I shook my head firmly and shoved the plate away from me.

"You know, if you're gonna act like this, maybe I oughta whack you again instead of apologize."

I grabbed the plate and fork and ate a few bites. "There. Happy?"

She planted her forehead into the palms of her hands and groaned. "You're driving me crazy."

"Good," I said. "'Cause you're driving me crazier."

"Is this all 'cause I spanked you?"

"No." It honestly wasn't; it hadn't even hurt that bad, but I wasn't about to tell her that. It because she'd went from cool big sister to mother hen overnight, and it wasn't just annoying, it was completely unexpected and out of the blue.

"Then what is it?" she went on, but I ignored her.

"C'mon, Julia," she said, her voice gentler. "I'm willing to listen. Talk to me."

"You're acting weird," I said.

"How so?"

"I dunno, like a parent."

"Well, I am your stepmother."

"Yeah, but you've never acted like _this_ before," I said. "Is it 'cause of what Dad said yesterday?"

She narrowed her eyes. "How do you know about that?"

I shrugged. "I heard you guys fighting," I admitted. "I thought it was neat how you stood up to him though."

"Well, I don't think it's neat you eavesdrop on our conversations."

"You were bein' mighty loud. I couldn't help it."

She sighed and folded her hands. "How much did you hear?"

"Everything," I replied, and she gave me a sad look.

"Listen, Julia. That fight, it don't mean nothin'. Lots of couples fight…"

I glared at her. I couldn't believe she was going to pull this "it's normal" crap on me and act like it was nothing. "That's bullshit, Rosie," I said angrily. "It made Dad leave and he still ain't here, and it made you go ape on me!"

"He was back this morning," she corrected me. "You were asleep when he came back."

I raised an eyebrow. "Then where is he now?"

"Working."

"On a weekend?"

"Yes," she said. "His boss offered him double to wrap up some painting for one of their customers."

"Oh."

We both fell silent. I grabbed the plate of noodles and demolished them before the urge to be difficult fell over me again.

"Julia, I'm sorry you think I'm acting strange." She tapped my arm to grab my attention. "It's just that I've been here for three years now."

"So?"

She took a deep breath and sighed. "So I think it's time I was more of a mother to you."

"I'd really rather you didn't," I said firmly.

She nodded. "I know, sweetie. I know you don't like it now, but don't you think it's better for the long run?"

I shook my head. "No."

"You'll come around eventually," she said, patting my shoulder. "It'll just take some getting used to."

I shot up and gave her a dirty look. "I won't," I insisted. "So please do me a favor an' leave me the hell alone."

"Julia!" she called after me, but I kept walking and didn't stop until I reached my room. I slammed the door and locked it behind me.

I plopped unto the bed and pouted. It was childish, and I probably _was_ acting like a spoiled brat, but I couldn't stand this. It just wasn't her. It never would be, and it wasn't just that I had issues accepting her authority. It was a lot more than that.

I didn't want to grow used to it because I had a gut feeling it wouldn't last—had a gut feeling _they_ wouldn't last. Dad was right when he called her out on thinking about leaving. At first I thought he sounded ridiculous, and I still wished that were the case, but I knew she was unhappy with him. I could see it whenever I looked at her, and it'd been that way for a year now. It was his fault too. I knew for fact their financial issues were all him. I'd overheard Steve tell Soda once that half of dad's paycheck went to his drinking and gambling, and I wondered if Rosie knew that, but I didn't have the heart to tell her. That had to be why she looked so flustered whenever she tried to balance their bills.

The more I thought about it, the more I realized they weren't going to make it. They were falling apart, and I bet the only reason she was acting like a mother to me now was to give her a reason to stick around, but that wouldn't last long. No matter how much she cared about me, she was going to leave him. It was only a matter of time before I'd be motherless again.

xxxx

I spent most of the afternoon staring at the ceiling in my bedroom. Between the truth about my real mother, and my stepmother going crazy, I had a lot to dwell on, but I never got anywhere in my thinking. I just made myself more, and more upset until I couldn't stand it anymore.

When Dad got back from painting, it was no surprise that he and Rosie went at it again. I did my best to ignore it this time, especially when I heard my name being tossed around. I shoved a pillow over my head, but their muffled voice still came through every now and then.

"She's starting to get an attitude problem, just like her brother," Dad said. "I'd best kick her in the pants now before it gets worse."

"She's doesn't have an attitude problem, Charlie," Rosie defended me promptly. "She's just hurting and I dunno why."

"That's no reason to act like a little brat."

"She's _twelve_, Charlie. Ain't everybody a moody little shit when they're twelve?"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Look, I think she'll open up me if I give her some time," Rosie asserted. "But if you go in there and beat on her, she's just gonna resent you, and we'll get nowhere!"

"Alright, fine, we'll try it your way," he resigned. "But if she gets any mouthier with me or you, we're doin' things my way."

I heard footsteps approach my room and prayed it was Rosie, but instead of was him.

"Julia." He rattled the door knob and banged his fist against the door. "Open the damn door," he yelled. "You know I hate it when you lock yourself in here."

I got up quickly and let him in. "Sorry, Dad," I said anxiously.

He pointed to my bed. "Sit."

I listened right away, and instead of sitting beside me, he remained standing and peered down at me from the ridiculous height advantage it gave him. I hated it when he did that. As much as I loved him, it was exactly why I resented him; he always made me feel like shit, worthless and powerless.

"Rosie says you gave her trouble today," he began. "That true?"

_Traitor_, I thought and hesitated.

"I asked you a question, Julia."

"Maybe…"

"Maybe?"

He stared me down and I sighed. "Okay, so maybe I did … a little."

"So that's a yes?"

I nodded.

"And what's this crap I heard about you not being in class on Friday?" he asked, his tone rising. "Rosie says your teacher called this afternoon."

"I dunno," I answered cautiously.

"I got no patience for you right now, kid," he said, inching closer to me. He tilted my chin up to make sure I was looking at him. "Tell me what the hell happened right now or so help me, it'll be the sorriest day of your life."

"I … I skipped with Angela. She made me."

"No one can make you do shit, Julia. Don't make excuses for yourself."

"Sorry," I said, fighting back tears.

"You better be," he said. "I dunno what the hell's gotten into you lately, but it's gonna stop right now."

I frowned and stared at my feet, fighting the urge to argue with him. It was just that and talking back to Rosie, but he was making it sound like I'd gotten myself hauled in by the fuzz or something.

"You're lucky as hell your stepmomma likes you," he added. "I was gonna give you one heck of lickin', but she begged me not to."

I swallowed hard and nodded. "I'm really sorry, Dad," I apologized again. He was still standing there and not replying might tip him over the edge enough to ignore her request.

"You stay in your room for the rest of the night," he said sharply. "If you dare come out for anything other than goin' to the bathroom, I'll go back on that promise to Rosie, got it?"

I nodded again.

He glared at me for a moment and left.

As soon as he was gone, I let those tears fall freely.

xxxx

Steve was nice enough to sneak me food later. He brought me a PB&J sandwich and sat beside me. "You okay?" he asked.

I nodded.

"He didn't do anything, did he?"

I shook my head.

"Good."

"You probably shouldn't be here though," I said nervously. "He might get pissed."

"Then I'll deal with him."

"That didn't work out so hot the last time."

"That's 'cause you didn't listen when you were s'pposed to," he insisted. "Trust me, it'll be fine."

"You sure?"

"_Yes_," he said. "Relax and eat your damn sandwich already."

I started picking at it, somewhat assured by his confidence.

"So Soda says he saw you at the movies…"

I groaned, setting the sandwich off to the side.

"And he also said there was this kid named Les?" he added, raising an eyebrow.

"Oh, him," I dismissed it as best I could. "Angela brought him along."

"He didn't say anything about Angela."

"That's 'cause she left for some kid's party," I explained. "And Les was nice enough to walk me home. He's really sweet and nice, Steve. You'd like him."

"I'm not so sure about that."

I grumbled. Just as I'd suspected he instantly shot that down.

"How old is he?" he asked.

"Twelve."

"I thought Angela liked older guys," he said. "There's a lot of holes in your story, kid."

"Ugh, that's 'cause Les wasn't her date. She went out with his brother." I rolled my eyes and he smirked in return. "Angela brought him along to be my date, but it wasn't really a date, 'cause neither of us wanted it to be."

"Sure, it wasn't," he teased.

"Honest, I don't wanna date anybody yet."

"You better not be lyin' about that," he said.

"I'm not!"

"Uh huh."

"Not even if they were a Beatle," I added, knowing that last bit would annoy him.

"God help me, I might have to disown you if you dated a Beatle," he laughed. "Honestly, Julia, can't you be into the Stones instead?"

"Nope. George is my future husband." George Harrison was by far my favorite Beatle, and my like for the band drove Steve crazy. He liked to tell me just how much he hated them whenever I listened to them or brought them up, and whenever a Beatles song came on the radio, he'd turn it to a different station and try to get me into his music.

"I'm just gonna pretend I didn't hear that," he teased. "And eat the rest of that sandwich, or you'll never grow old enough to get married."

I pouted and started to pick at it again. I just wasn't hungry. Whenever I got nervous, I lost my appetite, and eating anything made me feel like I was gonna puke.

"You sure you're okay?" he asked. "You've been in here all day pretty much with no food and you've barely touched the dang thing."

"I'm fine, Steve," I insisted, but he wasn't convinced.

He grabbed my shoulders and turned me to face him. "Tell me what's goin' on."

"It's nothing, honest."

"You know I don't like it when you lie."

"But I ain't lying." I tried to jerk away but his grip was strong.

"Yes, you are. You're lying right through your teeth." He paused and glared at me. "I can see all over your face, so tell me, what the hell happened?"

"I dunno," I said weakly. "Dad always scares the crap out of me when he's angry."

"You sure he didn't do anything?"

I nodded.

"There's something else, isn't there?" he insisted.

I shrugged.

"What is it?

"Can you please quit interrogating me? Jesus, Steve." I hated it when he did this. There was nothing more he needed to know, but I knew he wouldn't give up easily. I sighed and resigned to tell him. "It's Rosie."

"What about her?"

"She's acting ... weird."

"Weird how?"

"I dunno."

He groaned and balled a fist. "What'd she do?"

"Ugh, it's no big deal."

"You're gettin' all teary-eyed and snappy like you get whenever something's up, so I'd I say it is."

"Steve...please."

"No," he said. "I know you too damn well. We can do this all night if we have to. What happened?"

"Last night she was yelled at me for being late..."

"And?" He motioned for me to go on.

"And she hit me," I admitted finally.

"She what?"

"She spanked me but I guess I kind of deserved it. I mean, I—"

"I don't care how badly you deserved it," he cut me off. "It ain't her place. At all."

I felt bad immediately. He was gonna go rip her a new one over it when she'd just saved me from the wrath of my father a mere few hours ago. "Please don't say anything to her..."

"Why the hell not?"

"I dunno. She thinks I need a mother, and she's just tryin' to be that for me."

"And that's _exactly_ why it pisses me off."

"Dad'll be so pissed at you if you say anything."

"I honestly don't give two shits what he does," he said bitterly. "I don't want her laying a hand on you ever again."

"She won't. I won't give her a reason to," I said. "And Dad almost wailed on me this afternoon, but _she_ stopped him!"

"I'm still gonna give her a piece of my mind," he insisted. "And make damn sure it never happens again."

"I think you're overreacting, Steve..."

"I don't think so," he said, and he was definitely reeling now. "It ain't her place, damn it."

"I'm more afraid of Dad than her. Yell at him if you wanna yell at somebody!"

"I think I will."

"Please don't, Steve," I begged him. "I don't want to have to hear you guys fight again."

"Shut up," he told me. He got up and approached the door. "I'll be back in a minute," he said and left.

He never did come back. He jumped on Rosie and said horrible, nasty things to her, and just like I'd worried, Dad jumped on him in return. They must've fought for an hour, and it ended with Dad throwing him out.

He just had to go and get himself kicked out over the situation. I felt like shit. Rosie really had done me a favor today, and I should've found a way to keep my trap shut this time, no matter how much he persisted.

It'd be a week before I'd see him again.


	8. Chapter 8

Disclaimer: I don't own.

Special thanks to K. Nefertiti for her suggestion, which was implemented in this chapter.

* * *

**September 22nd, 1966**

The next few days dragged on slowly and monotonously. I hated to admit it, but I really missed Steve. I was still damn pissed off at him for getting himself kicked out for something so stupid and pointless, but having him around was nice.

Having him around made me feel safer, and him gone meant facing Dad's mood swings alone. Rosie didn't count. She could convince him to go easy on me, sure, but she couldn't physically prevent him from doing anything, and although my father hardly ever took his anger out on me, I knew it was most likely to happen when Steve wasn't home. They clashed so often, Steve could always deflect Dad's attention straight back to him just by saying the wrong words at the right time, and it didn't even matter if I was the one that truly deserved to be in trouble. I hated that it worked that way, but it did.

That was why Dad kicked him out all the time. I got the courage to ask once, and he told me he needed Steve to book it before he'd do something he'd really regret. He knew he was volatile and knew he could probably put Steve in the hospital or vice versa if he didn't get a break from him. Sometimes thinking about that made me feel better about Dad—it was comforting to know deep down he really did care about his son—but it didn't change how much I missed my brother. It always took a toll on me, but this time it was even worse. He usually game back the next day, sometimes it took two, but we were going on four days, not including the night he left.

I felt like a zombie in every class this week, staring off in uncertain directions, doodling in my notebook, and even falling asleep. It had gotten so bad Mrs. Fox had slapped her ruler against my desk seventeen times by Wednesday, and I only knew because Marie had been keeping track. I'd heard her giggle about it to her best friend, Louise, and though I wasn't one to fight, not like Angela at least, it'd taken every ounce of patience not to deck her.

Sometimes I liked to daydream about punching her and what her reaction might be. I imagined she'd put on the huge display of hurt and outrage to gain sympathy from her minions; they'd flock to her and comfort her and make me out to be some kind of monster, but to those who hated her, I'd be a hero. The thought was satisfying, even if it probably wouldn't happen that way. Most likely, I'd fade into the background when Angela turned it into all out girl war between the Soc and Greaser girls. Now _that _thought was scary. She already created enough problems among our group, and the last thing any of us needed was more drama at the hands of Angela Shepard.

There was plenty this week when the flames between her and Rachel Mathews reignited. By chance, they'd been assigned another English project together, and from day one it was a nightmare. I wasn't in their English class, but I sure heard an awful lot about it from both of them. Apparently Rachel insisted they do everything her way 'cause Angela wasn't smart enough to handle it, so Angela went and destroyed all the work Rachel had done and rewrote it to make it "better". And then they got to throwing insults at each other that had absolutely nothin' to do with the project. Angela called Rachel a bitch, Rachel called Angela a stuck up. Angela called Rachel prude, Rachel called Angela a whore. On and on and on and on …It was so bad every time I tried to talk to one in the presence of the other, I got death glares.

Rachel sure wasn't playing her cards right to become a good friend of mine. I knew Angel could be a bitch, but I'd known her forever, ever since her mother used to babysit me and Steve, and that put her slightly ahead of Rachel. Still, it was probably my own fault Rachel kept complaining about Angela, 'cause I'd spent the greater half of an evening gossiping about Angela with her. She probably thought I was okay with it, but I wasn't.

I hated it, and that's why I shined them both on to eat lunch with Les. I used to get irrated with Steve whenever he said it, but he was right: girls really were meaner and nastier than guys. Les didn't talk about other people. Sure, he mentioned his brother, James, every now and then, but that was different. He was probably just blowing off steam, and besides, it was okay to whine about your siblings; well, at least as long as the other person didn't start agreeing with you, but I'd learned my lesson there a long time ago. Never again would I agree when Angela called Curly stupid.

But nevertheless, it was now Thursday, and if it weren't for Les, I'd have gone insane. Rachel and Angela were still fighting, and much to my dismay, putting me even more in the middle of it. Rachel invited me over to her house, and just to piss her off, Angela invited me to hers. I wanted to say no to both of them, but then I realized that if I went to Rachel's, there was an offchance Steve might show up to see Two-Bit. Angela was probably going to bitch up a shitstorm about me to Candy, but I didn't care; that small possibility was still enough to persuade me.

"So, did I tell you what Angela did today?" Rachel asked as we began our journey to her house.

I glared at her. "No, and I don't give a shit what she did," I said, finding a wave of anger I rarely let crash over me. I got nervous for a split second, realizing I might've unintentionally started a fight with her, but she just huffed and sighed.

I think she got my point. I was used to Angela, who after telling me to shut up, would've told me anyway, but Rachel was ultimately nicer than her.

"I got some new nail polish," she said, after a long silence. "We can paint each other's nails."

"That sounds fun."

When we got to her block, I glanced around for Steve's car, but the only car I recognized was Two-Bit's junker in their driveway. It was somewhat disappointing, but I expected it. He nearly always went to Soda's, and maybe, if I was lucky, he'd turn up later.

"Oh _God_," Rachel exclaimed after she'd opened the door for me. Her face got bright red, and I gave her a confused look.

She pointed to Two-Bit, who was passed out face down on their couch in nothing but his underwear and one sock. Why one sock I didn't want to know.

Rachel smacked him with a throw pillow and gave him a nasty look. "Put some goddamn clothes on, Keith!"

He groaned and rolled off the couch. "Ma'd wash your mouth out soap for sayin' goddamn, and I'd sooner join her for calling me an even worse word," he said, not even bothering to get up.

"Keith is _not _a swear word, you idiot, it's the name on your birth certificate."

He sat up slowly and cocked an eyebrow at her. "You ever see my birth certificate?"

She narrowed her eyes. "No, but I know for fact your real name is Keith."

"Hey now..." He held up his hands. "You ever seen my certificate of birth, yes or no?"

She bit her lip and crossed her arms. "Well, no, but..."

"Aha!" he interrupted her. "Just as I suspected, so tell me, miss Rachel, how're you s'pposed to know Two-Bit ain't on it then?"

"Because what kind of an idiot would name their son Two-Bit!"

"I happened to know a brilliant man who named his sons Sodapop and Ponyboy."

"Whatever. Just please put some clothes on," she said, rubbing her forehead. "_Keith_."

"_Two. Bit_," he corrected slowly. "Say it with me, kid. Two. Bit."

"Kee-_eith_," she mocked.

"No, no," he said, standing up. "Two. Bit."

She glared at him.

"We'll work on that later." He yanked her hair a bit and took off for the kitchen.

"Ugh," she said as soon as he was gone. "Sorry about that. He always walks around in his underwear. So embarrassing."

"It's okay," I said, trying to stifle my laughter.

"You're lucky your brother isn't psychotic."

"Believe me, he has his moments." Granted, he didn't walk around in his underwear, but he'd still done some pretty embarrassing things.

"C'mon, let's go paint our nails," she grabbed my arm and tugged me to her room.

She painted mine first. It was a really bright pink, which was no wonder. Everything in her room was pink and frilly, unlike my boring room. If I didn't know they were poor, you might've guessed she was a Soc, but apparently she had a rich godmother who liked to spoil her with nice things, and Two-Bit liked to tease her about being a princess.

I was lucky to get a few things from Rosie, so I shouldn't whine too much, but I was jealous. I didn't have much. My prized possession as a kid was a Barbie doll I'd named Laura after my favorite book character Laura Ingalls, and unlike my friends who had multiple Barbies, I only had one. Laura still sat on my dresser, and every now and then, I styled her hair and dressed her in the clothes my grandma had made for her. I doubted other twelve year olds still played with dolls though, so I kept that a secret.

"Okay, my turn," Rachel said, handing me the bottle.

She'd sure done a sloppy job on my nails. Angela was a much better nail painter, but I kept my mouth shut.

"You ever forged a signature?" Rachel asked.

I looked at her funny. "Steve knows how to forge my dad's, but I haven't ever. Why?"

"I'm s'pposed to get my mom to sign a note, 'cause Angela and I were fighting. Ma's gonna kill me."

I didn't say anything, but it secretly made me very happy to think Beth might get hacked at her. Maybe she'd stop this death match with Angela then.

"Hey, why do you act weird whenever I mention Angela?" she asked, and I groaned.

"'Cause she's my friend," I said. I didn't want to argue about it, but she persisted.

"But she's so mean to you."

"Not really."

"Is too. She bosses you around and ditches you and I could go on and on and on."

"I don't really wanna talk about this," I said, looking away.

"I'm just sayin' you deserve better than that, don't you think?"

I shrugged.

"I'll shut up after this, I swear, but you shouldn't let her manipulate you so much."

I nodded. I half agreed with that, but anybody who knew Angela knew it was kind of impossible to avoid. She just had that effect on people, I guess.

xxxx

Beth invited me to stay for supper, and I readily accepted. After supper, Rachel and I flipped through her piles of magazines and complied images of what would be our ideal wardrobes. Rachel went for all the bright and vibrant mod colors, but I was drawn to the simpler, more sophisticated look. Anything would've been a step up from my current attire. I wore the same thing every: a skirt that unlike Angela's came below my knee, a cardigan, and a plain white blouse. All of which were over-sized. We always bought my clothes too big and safety-pinned the waist until I grew into them. It was a way to save money, I guess, and while I never cared before, I was beginning to lately. Sometimes Rosie took me shopping and I ended up with nice things, but if Dad had his way he'd dress me as plainly and _cheaply_ as possible.

"There they go again."

I looked up. "What?"

Rachel bobbed her head to her mother who was bawling out Two-Bit in the kitchen.

I smirked and took the golden opportunity to see her in action, and it was just as impressive as I'd imagined.

"You go to school nearly every day, so how in the almighty universe are you failing three classes?" She crossed her arms and tapped her foot impatiently.

He chuckled. "I dunno, Ma. School's just gettin' tough for me, I guess."

"Don't even go there," she said. "They told me you was a genius back in elementary. I smell laziness."

"But Ma…"

"Don't but Ma me. You're lazy around here too! Tell me why ya think you're entitled to everything without putting in a single ounce of work, 'cause I'm dyin' to know…"

When he didn't reply, she grabbed a magazine off the counter, rolled it up, and whapped him across the head. Both Rachel and I laughed hysterically.

He glared at us both and turned back to his mother. "Don't you think you're overeating a wee bit? I mean, c'mon, Ma…"

"Lord help me, Two-Bit, I will knock you down to hell and pull you out so I can do it again if you keep arguing with me."

That silenced him.

"You don't wanna mess with me right now, buddy. It ain't gonna be cute." She smacked him with the magazine again and then pointed it in the direction of the dishes. "If you ain't gettin' a job, and you ain't passing school, you can be my full-time unpaid housekeeper."

"Ain't that called slave labor?"

"If you don't like my rules, fine by me. The door's open. Don't let it smack you on the ass on the way out."

"Alright, I get it, Ma," he said, sighing. "I'll bring those grades up."

"Well, first you can do the dishes. It won't kill you."

"Fine."

"After you do those, you clean the bathroom."

"What?!"

"Don't look at me like that!" she said. "You're the one that makes it so dirty."

I turned to Rachel and smiled. "That … was amazing."

"That's nothin'." She waved her hand in the air to dismiss it. "Trust me. She gets worse than that. You know that saying 'Just wait til your father gets home'?"

I nodded.

"Well, when my dad was still around, it was 'Just wait 'til your mother gets home' for us."

Somehow I believed it. For me my father was way scarier than Rosie'd ever be, and thinking about it made me cringe. Glory, I was gonna be really in for it tonight. I'd just realized I'd spent half the night here, and I hadn't bothered to tell anybody at home about it.

"Shit," I mumbled.

"What?"

"I gotta get home. I didn't tell Rosie or Dad I was here…"

She looked at me wide-eyed. "Good luck with that. Your dad sounds kind of scary."

"Thanks…"

"Need a ride? I can go ask my mom."

"Nah, I'll just run home. I don't live far anyways." I grabbed my homework and approached their door. "See ya tomorrow, Rachel."

xxxx

_Shit, shit, shit. _I caught my breath from running and stood in front of the door nervously.

I opened it slowly and stepped in cautiously, preparing myself for the backlash, but much to my surprise, none came. It was as if no one had even realized I was gone.

Dad was staring at the television set and Rosie was nowhere to be seen. I sighed and moved to go to my room, but my dad's voice stopped me. Maybe I wasn't getting lucky after all.

"Come here," he said.

I hesitated for a moment.

"You ain't in trouble," he added. "I just wanna talk."

I still approached him slowly. You never knew when he'd flip from calm to hacked off.

He patted the cushion next to him on the couch, and I sat down.

"Rosie and I were talking." He paused and sighed. "And we might be gettin' separated."

"You mean like a divorce?"

"Yeah, kinda like that," he said.

"Oh." I kind of expected to hear those words eventually, but it didn't take the shock away. It was happening sooner than I thought, and I just couldn't imagine Rosie being gone after she'd been such a part of my life.

"I'm sorry, Julia," he said, as he wrapped his arm around me.

I tensed up. He was never one to be affectionate, and I wasn't used to it.

"Nothin's official yet," he added. "I wanna make it work. Honest, honey, I do, but I just don't know."

He seemed so upset, and I realized in that moment just how much he really loved her and how I never saw the same in her. To be honest I had no clue why she even married him in the first place, and this time, instead of feeling bad for her, I felt awful for him.

"Don't be sorry, Dad," I said, scooting closer to him. "It ain't your fault."

"I think it is," he said definitively. "But don't you worry about our problems."

That was easier said than done, but I nodded anyways in a feeble attempt to assure him.

He pulled me into a tighter hug, and I took a deep breath and relaxed, realizing I didn't have to worry about him flipping on me tonight. In fact, I was so relieved, Rosie wasn't even on my mind anymore.

I felt selfish. This was supposed to be awful news, and I'd probably cry about it later, but all I could think about now was how this was the first time my dad had hugged me in years and how amazing that felt.


	9. Chapter 9

Disclaimer: I don't own.

* * *

Angela leaned on the locker next to mine, twirling her hair and glaring at me.

"What?" I asked, not able to stand her icy gaze any longer. She'd been eying me all day, and I could only guess it was because I'd hung out with Rachel yesterday.

"Let's ditch again," she said casually.

"No."

She pouted and crossed her arms. "Don't you like me no more?"

I glared at her. I hated it with a capital h when she pulled this crap. It was half for display, half to make me feel like shit, and not an ounce of real upset. But it worked; despite my efforts to assure myself she was faking being hurt, I always worry I'd somehow ruined our friendship. "Look, just 'cause I don't wanna skip with you don't mean I don't like you, Angel."

She grinned smugly. "But you hate history, and I hate English. Win, win situation."

I groaned; why'd she always have to put forth a convincing argument? That was just like her. Maybe Steve was right about her being a terrible influence on me, but not being her friend was easier said than done. She was one of those people where being on her good side was a giant asset, but being on her bad was social suicide.

"Sooo, are you comin'?" she asked when I failed to reply.

"I dunno."

"C'mon, Jule," she whined.

"I just don't want to get in trouble again," I persisted. "Mrs. Fox called my Dad last time and she probably will again."

"So?"

"_So_?" I threw my hands up in despair. "So I'd get in huge trouble! I almost did last time. You might like bein' bad, but I don't."

"Alright, fine." She flipped her hair over her shoulder and started to walk away. "I guess me an' Leslie'll be cuttin' on our own then."

"Wait a minute." I chased after her and grabbed her shoulder to stop her. "Les is goin' with you?"

"You bet," she said nonchalantly.

I groaned. I didn't want to jynx things with my father since things had been so good with him last night, but I really didn't want to leave Les alone with Angela. Who knows what trouble she might get him into…

"Okay, I'll go," I said, catching up with her.

xxxx

"What exactly are we doin', Angel?" I asked, as she led us in an uncertain direction.

"You'll see."

"No," I protested.

She laughed.

"Tell me, damn it," I insisted, but it had no effect on her.

She smiled. "I _love_ it when you get bossy, Jule."

"Well, I hate it when you do," I shot back. "God, you're such a bitch sometimes."

"Glory, Julia!" She clutched her hand to her heart and sighed loudly. "I'm so hurt…"

"Shut up, and tell me where the hell you're takin' us!" I grabbed her shoulder and stopped her.

She turned around and rolled her eyes. "I honestly don't give a shit," she said with a smirk. "Where do you want to go?"

"Back to school," Les answered before I could.

"What he said."

She grabbed both our shirt sleeves and shook her head. "Jesus Christ, you guys are so tightly wound," she said. "You wouldn't know fun if it smacked you square in the face."

I jerked myself out of her grip and shoved her to make her let go of Les.

"Holy cow, Julia." She grinned madly. "Sorry I messed with your man."

"He's not my man," I said firmly.

"That's gotta sting," she said, patting Les on the shoulder.

"Ugh, I just mean we're not dating," I corrected myself.

"Yeah," Les piped up. "We're just friends, Angela."

"Uh huh," she said, staring at her nail. She frowned at it and crossed her arms. "Y'all need a weed or somethin'." She fiddled around her purse and pulled out her pack. "Here. Take 'em all. Ain't like I bought it, but get your own next time."

I hesistated, but Les took it.

He took one out and examined it closely.

"Don't tell me you've never seen one before," Angela went on. "Your brother goes through these like candy."

His hand shook and he handed it back to her. "I've never tried it," he said nervously.

"Imagine that." She grinned. "C'mon, it's good for ya."

"I dunno," he said, scratching his chin. "The surgeon general said it was bad for you."

She stared at him wide-eyed, like he'd lost his mind. I joined her. "Where'd you hear that?" I asked.

"I read it in a newspaper once," he said, and I couldn't help but giggle at how geeky he sounded. I didn't know much, but it sounded like a load a crap. Everyone I knew smoked more than they drank water, and they all seemed okay.

"You actually read that bullshit?" Angela asked.

Les nodded.

"Well, ain't you straight."

He slunk a foot away from her and she just laughed harder. "Tell me, Les, you ever seen anybody die after a good smoke?" she persisted.

"Hey, lay off him," I spoke up. "He can read and believe what he wants."

"Would you look at that?" She smirked at Les. "And she claims there ain't a fling…"

I nudged her arm sharply, and she just winked at me.

Les was still thinking about what she'd said awful hard. "No," he said finally. "Guess I haven't."

"Then I don't know who the hell the surgeon general is," Angela said. "But he's a moron." She lit a cigarette and handed it to him.

He stared at it for a moment before putting it to his lips slowly. He barely inhaled, choked immediately, and handed it back.

I stifled a laugh

"I know you know how." She took it back and shoved it in my direction. "Show your clueless boyfriend how it's done."

I gave her a dirty look. I did know how, but that didn't mean I liked it. I thought they tasted terrible and couldn't believe anyone could stand to smoke them. Steve said it was the only thing that stood between him and insanity, but it just made me gag.

I took it anyway though. There was somethin' about knowing how to smoke a cigarette when Les didn't that made me feel better about myself. I took a drag and was pleasantly surprised. Whatever she smoked tasted a hell of a lot better than what Steve did, but I still didn't like it enough to want to keep it up regularly.

"Can I try again?" Les asked, and I handed it to him.

"You don't have to do this," I told him. He was clearly uncomfortable and I felt responsible. I should've just put the cigarette out, told Angela to go to hell, or both.

He choked each time he took a puff. "I don't see how this could possibly be good for me," he said. "It's making me sick."

I took it from him and put it out before he could make an ass of himself again. Angela was laughing her ass off, and I felt bad for him.

"Well, I think I'll leave you two be," Angela said and turned to leave.

"What the hell?" I said. "You're the one who asked us to skip with you!"

"But I don't wanna ruin your date."

"For the last time, it ain't a date!" I called after her, but she kept moving.

"Uh huh. See ya later."

I debated chasing after her but decided not to. It was probably best she was gone, especially for Les's sake.

"So why'd you agree to skip in the first place?" I asked him as soon as she was no longer visible.

He shrugged. "She said you were comin'."

"Goddamnit, Angela," I cussed and balled my fists. "She told me _you_ were comin' too."

She must've done this on purpose and then left on purpose.

"Well, it's too late to go back to school now," Les said. He was much calmer about this than I was. "Hey, you okay?"

I sighed and bit my lip. Sometimes when I got really mad, I'd burst into tears, but I wasn't gonna do that do. It was just Angela being Angela. Nothing to cry over. "I'm fine."

"You sure?" he asked, and he sounded so genuine I could just hug him.

"Yeah, just pissed at Angela," I said.

"I'm just glad she's gone. Now I can actually talk to you without her makin' fun of us."

I smiled. "Yeah, I guess you're right."

"Wanna go to my place?" he asked.

"Sure."

xxxx

The first thing I noticed about his house was how small it was. It was _much_ tinier than mine, but unlike mine, it wasn't run down. Rosie was the only reason it still looked halfway decent. Before she came Dad let it go to shit, but Les's mom must've taken great pride in decorating her home. There were decorations all over the place, and it was kind of amazing considering how many children they had running all over the place.

He pushed his way through the chaos and led me to his room he shared with his brother, which could've easily been a large closet. He didn't have much in there, just some books, a couple model airplanes, and his artwork. Man, did he have a lot of drawings.

He sat down on his bed and I joined him. "Did you do that one?" I asked, pointing at the picture of a golden retriever that hung above his dresser.

He nodded. "That was my dog, Stella."

"You're a really good drawer, Les."

"Thanks," he said sheepishly, but his eyes beamed at my compliment. "Nobody's ever said that to me. Mom just yells at me and says it's a waste of time."

"Well, she's wrong," I said firmly. "This is really, really good."

He shrugged. "I'm used to it. She ain't home ever anyways," he said.

"Leslie." The door slammed open and an angry woman peered down at him. She balanced a small child on her hip and pointed at him. "Ain't you supposed to be in school?"

"I got out early."

She raised an eyebrow. "Who's your friend here?"

"Her name's Julia."

"Well, tell me next time you just show up with somebody, Les," she said bitterly. "I have enough trouble takin' care of you little shits."

"Sorry."

She left just as quickly as she came. "Sorry 'bout that," he said to me, when she was out of earshot.

"It's okay. Was that your mom?"

"No, my sister Joyce," he sighed. "She thinks she runs this house."

"Probably does," he added, thinking about it. "She's a lot nicer once you get to know her though, I swear."

"I believe you," I assured him. "Man, you sure got a lot of brothers and sisters."

"Seven of 'em," he replied. "Her, James, me, Penny, Jodie, Amy, Billy, and Elaine."

"Wow."

"Yeah," he said shyly. "You can see why I don't usually bring people here."

He shut the door, and the screaming and crying muffled. He picked up a drawing and handed it to me. "I got bored in English and drew this one for you."

I took it and regarded it for a moment. It was of a tree with the sun setting in the background, and I was overwhelmed by the amount of time and effort he had to have put into it. He must've really liked me. "Thanks," I said. "It's beautiful."

"You really think so?" he asked eagerly.

I nodded. "I love it."

xxxx

When I got home, I pinned the picture to my wall right away. I sat back on my bed and stared at it, wishing I could've stayed longer at Les's, but his sister was giving me death glares and I knew I probably wouldn't get lucky twice in a row with Dad if I came home late. Plus Mrs. Fox was probably going to call him for all I knew. I'd need to be on his good side for that.

I heard a knock on my door.

"Julia." The voice was Rosie's. I rolled over and ignored her.

"I wanna talk to you, sweetie."

"Dad already did," I said, refusing to look at her. "You don't have to."

She sat down beside me anyway and rubbed my back.

"Just leave," I begged her.

She sighed. "Please just hear me out?"

I continued to ignore her.

"C'mon, don't be a brat about this." She pulled on my arm and forced me to sit up. "Jesus, you're making this so hard for me…"

"Fine." I sat up and gave her my attention.

She held my hands in hers and looked away, struggling for a moment. "I just want you to know," she began finally, "that even if your dad and I split, I don't want that to change things between us."

"You gotta be kidding me if you think it won't," I said bitterly.

I might as well have slapped her in the face she looked so hurt. She got up without saying a word.

"Rosie, wait," I said, chasing after her, but it was too late.

She grabbed her purse and car keys and walked out the door.

xxxx

**_September 24th, 1966_**

I didn't sleep at all that night. I remained awake for hours, staring at my ceiling and fighting back tears. I felt awful. Rosie was the closest thing I'd ever get to a mother, and I was pushing her away. She was going to leave anyway—she and Dad just weren't going to make it—but I was speeding up the process. She hated Steve. She probably hated Dad. I was the only person she didn't hate, so if I gave her the cold shoulder, what reason did she have to stick around?

Maybe I didn't mind her being so motherly after all, but I didn't know. I was so conflicted.

I rubbed at my eyes and sat up, pulling my knees to my chest. It was just over a week ago that Steve told me the truth about our mom, and all this time, I'd been shoving every thought about my real mom away. It was just too much to deal with, especially with Rosie wigging out on me, but now I wished I'd have been nicer to her. She was going to leave, and every time my real mom crossed my mind, it was like a double loss.

I'd lost my mom before I even knew her, and now I was going to lose Rosie too.

I got up when I heard the door open. I hoped it was Rosie, but was surprised to see Steve.

I followed him outside slowly and sat next to him on the back steps. There was a lit cigarette dangling between his lips, and he ran his hand through his hair when he saw me.

"Hey," I said, and he turned his head away.

"What're you doin' here?" His tone was harsh and dry. "It's too early for you to be awake."

"I dunno."

"Don't you start this 'I dunno' bullshit on me now," he said harshly. "You didn't just follow me out here for no reason, so what is it?"

I shrugged. He puffed on the cigarette, turned to me, and glared. I wasn't welcome. If I hadn't sensed that in the past ten seconds, it was perfectly clear now. I thought about leaving, even had the urge to do so, but yet I found myself glued to the cement.

"You got somethin' to say, or are ya just gonna sit there?"

I bit my lip and stared at my feet. I didn't say a word to him. There was nothing to say. If I said something I'd probably just make him madder. If I were smart, I'd high tail my ass inside, but I was worried about him and wanted to know what was wrong.

I also just wanted to spend time with him. I hadn't seen since he left, and I missed him when he was gone, even if moments like this made me feel otherwise. Without even thinking about it, I moved closer to him and rested my head on his shoulder. I figured he'd shove me away, but I did it anyways on the hope he wouldn't.

He grumbled loudly, but he didn't say anything to make me leave. After a bit, he squeezed my arm gently and tilted my head to face him. "Promise me something, will ya?" he asked.

"What?"

"Don't ever run away."

"I won't," I agreed quickly, even if it was a dumb thing to request. He'd made me promise dumb things before, but this took the cake. He had to know I'd never do that. I'd be too afraid to. Thought about it, sure, but I'd never be able to. Not in a million years.

"You better mean that."

"I do."

"Good. Don't even think about it, or I'll be twice as pissed at you now. Thank Ponyboy Curtis for that next time you see 'im."

"He ran away?"

Steve nodded.

"But why?"

"Well, Darry took a swing at him," Steve explained. "But between you and me, that hit'd been a long time coming. Don't you dare go sayin' this to Soda now or anybody who knows him, either. Soda'll have my head for thinking that."

"I won't, I promise."

"Jesus, I tell ya, that kid gives Darry more gray hairs than there on hairs on the poor guy's head."

"I always thought Pony was nice," I said, feeling the need to defend him. Steve seemed annoyed with him a lot, and every time I'd ever met him, he seemed absolutely harmless. Besides, Darry did look kind of scary, like he could beat up anybody, kill somebody even. Not that he would. He just wasn't that type of guy, but if you went off looks alone, that hit had to hurt twice as bad as when Dad slapped me.

"It's got nothin' to do with whether he's nice or not, Jule." Steve sounded impatient. "He's perfectly nice, but being nice don't give you common sense. He's got none of that. Not even a little."

He lit another cigarette and smoked it frantically.

"I'm worried about 'im," he admitted finally. "I mean, I was at Evie's when Soda ran and told me about it, and I thought 'Give him ten damn minutes and he'll be back.' I'd have bet big money on that for Christ's sakes, but it's been hours. It's seven in the fucking morning now, and let me tell you, kid, if you just so much as _think_ about running away, I'll put you through a wall, get me?"

I bit my lip and nodded. I hated it when he said stuff like that. He didn't mean it, not literally, but it still hurt me, and he knew that too.

"What's wrong with you?" he asked, his voice a tad calmer.

I didn't say anything.

"Julia."

"I dunno," I replied miserably. "Everything's wrong with me."

"Jesus, don't be so dramatic, Jule. I didn't mean it like that."

I wiped at my eyes. The tears I'd been holding back all night were falling, and I couldn't stop them. I was such a crybaby.

"Easy, kid," he said, putting his hand on my shoulder. "You'll be okay."

"I missed you so much," I admitted, hugging him.

"Ah shit, now you're gettin' mushy on me," he said, but eventually returned the embrace. "Yeah, I missed you too, kid."


	10. Chapter 10

Disclaimer: I don't own.

* * *

Sometimes I couldn't help but spy on my brother and his friends. I tried to stay out of Steve's business, but it was hard when whatever they were talking about was interesting. Two-Bit had said something about Johnny missing along with Pony, and I had to find out more.

Knowing Steve would have a massive fit if he saw me, I tried to be as inconspicuous as possible. I crouched down and leaned against the wall where the hallway turned into the living room and peered around the corner.

Steve was pacing and Two-Bit was lying on our couch with both his hands pressed to his forehead. Something big was happening. "Why the hell'd he have to go and get Johnny involved in this?" Steve asked.

Two-Bit pulled himself up and eyed Steve crossly. "Cool it, buddy, it ain't like that and you know it."

"For Christ's sakes, I'm not blaming him, Two-Bit. I'm just sayin' it was _stupid_," Steve persisted.

Two-Bit gave him another warning look, but Steve was still going. "He runs away 'cause Darry hits him and then all this. If he'd have just stayed home, none of this would've happened." Steve threw his hands up in the arm, and Two-Bit shot up so fast it was incredible. He grabbed Steve and shoved him hard against the wall.

I gasped at how angry he was. This was getting serious. I'd never, ever seen him like this, and maybe I should've left, but I was just too curious to miss the rest.

"Do you realize how out of your mind you sound right now?" he demanded, and Steve shoved him back.

Two-Bit grabbed him again. "If you wanna play the blame game, blame Bob and Randy and all them Socy assholes, but Pony's on the lam with Johnny, and it didn't happen 'cause he ran away; it happened 'cause the Socs don't know how to mind their own goddamned territory!"

That shut Steve up finally, but Two-Bit wasn't done. "Now we don't even know what happened. Word says it's Johnny, but for all we know, neither of them did, and they're just getting pinned for it 'cause they're missing. All we know for sure is Bob is dead and they're gone. That's it, that's fucking it, so shut it with this _he should've stayed home_ bullshit."

"Are you deaf? I just said I didn't blame him," Steve shot back. "All I said was it was stupid, and it is. If I ran away every time my old man hit me—"

"They're both murder suspects, Steve," Two-Bit cut him off quickly. "Goddamnit, don't you think there's more important shit right now?"

Steve was quiet. He broke out of Two-Bit's grip and glared at him for a moment, but the prolonged silence was an admission Two-Bit was right.

"Dallas knows something," Steve said finally. "But he ain't talking."

"Tell me something I don't know, will ya," Two-Bit said with a sigh. "Bastard always knows something."

Steve looked concerned. "Think they're okay?"

"I dunno." Two-Bit rubbed his forehead and sat down again.

He looked deep in thought for a moment and looked up at Steve. "If Dal's helpin' them, then they are."

Steve nodded. "He must be," he agreed. "I wish he'd have the fuckin' decency to say somethin'. Does he have any idea how worried we are? And Darry and Soda both ain't gonna sleep a wink 'til Pony's home, and damn it, I probably won't either."

They both looked so worried, I was worried now. Why and how could my brother's friends possibly be murder suspects? It didn't make sense. I sighed and pressed my forehead to the wall.

"Hold on a minute," Steve said, getting up, and I began to panic as I realized he was approaching me.

"Shit," I cursed under my breath, and tried to make a break for it, but Steve caught up to me and yanked me back.

"Steve, you scared me," I said, trying to play dumb.

"Don't even, I saw you." I tried to pull away, but his grip around my arm was too strong. "What the hell were you doin'?"

I thought furiously, trying to think of a good excuse.

He raised an eyebrow at me and shook my arm slightly. "Well?" he demanded.

"I was just curious," I said.

His eyes narrowed and his face got redder. "Then you wait and ask me, and _if_ I wanna tell you, I tell you," he said firmly. "How many times do I have to tell you this? Goddamnit, it's rude to spy on me…"

"Well, what you said about Ponyboy Curtis was rude too," I argued back, not pausing to think about it.

He gripped my arm tighter and cuffed me upside the head; not hard, but hard enough to let me know I was getting on his last nerve.

"Ow, Steve," I protested loudly anyways. Even if though he hadn't hit me that hard, I wanted him to think it hurt a lot.

"Keep it up, and it won't be all I've give you," he said coolly.

"Steve," Two-Bit warned.

"Shut up," he shot back and turned back to me. "And you." He stabbed his finger at me as he stared me down. "Get the hell out of my face." He pointed to my room and shoved me towards it.

"Now," he added when I didn't move fast enough.

I ran the rest of the short distance, slammed the door, and threw myself unto to the bed. I grabbed my pillow and shoved my head into it. I told myself I wasn't gonna cry, I didn't want to give Steve the satisfaction on the off chance he could hear me, but I couldn't help myself. Maybe I shouldn't have spied on him, but he didn't have to be that mean.

Eventually I passed out from exhaustion.

xxxx

Steve nudged me awake a few hours later. "Julia."

I glared at him and rolled over to my other side.

"Jesus, you're a moody little shit sometimes," he said with a sigh. "I wanna apologize, but if you won't let me, fine, I won't."

That caught my attention and I sat up to face him. "You, my brother, Steve Randle, wanna apologize? To _me_?"

"Don't push it," he teased. "But yeah, I shouldn't have hit you."

Silence followed. I wasn't sure what to say, this the first time he apologized to me for anything in quite some time, and it was probably safe to say it might be the last.

"But _you_ shouldn't spy on me," he went on, and I groaned.

I should've guessed it. Of course he'd find a way to turn it back on me. "I don't wanna talk about this, Steve," I said impatiently.

"Because you know I'm right, huh?" he asked. "Nice try, kid."

"No, it's 'cause it ain't fair," I said. "I mean, if you spied on me and my friends, you'd say it was—"

"I don't know what the hell you're talkin' about," he cut me off, "'cause I don't do that."

I crossed my arms and pouted. "Nuh uh, what about that time with Angela after school?"

"That's a horrible example," he shot back. "First of all, you weren't talking to Angela. And second of all, she was flirting out in the open for the entire world to see, so I doubt it was meant to be private."

I frowned; I hated it when he was right, and he usually was. "I guess so," I admitted. "But I was just curious, Steve. I'm worried about your friends too, and you never tell me anything, so how else am I s'pposed to know?"

"Simple, if I don't tell you, it ain't none of your business." He tapped his pointed finger down on my leg to punctuate his words. "It's as easy as that, and I tell you plenty so no bitching about it."

"But that's not fair," I whined.

He narrowed his eyes. "C'mon now, you're just a kid. You can't expect me to tell you everything."

"But I'm twelve!"

"Yeah, a twelve year old kid," he said. "Thanks for proving my point."

"I'm_ not_ a little kid anymore!"

"Well, you sure had me convinced," he said. "What with spying on me an' all. And now you're pouting again. Real mature."

"Am not."

"Are too, and you're not gonna win this one, so I suggest you quit arguing while I'm still feeling apologetic."

I uncrossed my arms and sighed. "Sorry," I apologized reluctantly.

He just shook his head. "Well, word's gonna get out," he said finally. "And I'd rather you heard it from me, so it's your lucky day, I guess. But lemme get this straight, it ain't 'cause you pestered it out of me, dig?"

I nodded.

"Well, you know Pony ran away, but we think he ran into Johnny," he explained. "You know Johnny, right?"

I nodded again. I'd always remember him 'cause he was the poor kid I'd witnessed Steve lecture the hell out of. It was the first time I've ever seen Steve lecture somebody as intensely as he did me too. I managed to stay fully hidden that time, so Steve had no idea I'd heard them, but I remember feeling sorry for Johnny and wondering why Sylvia Jordan was such a bad person.

I also remember Johnny got cut up real bad once, and how pissed off Steve had been over that.

"From what we gather, we think he an' Pony ran into some Socs," he went on. "And Johnny, well, he killed one of them."

Steve paused, and I couldn't help but ask. "Who'd he kill?"

"Bob Sheldon, and the sonuvabitch deserved it twice over," Steve said bitterly. "He's been a real thorn in our side, and I can only imagine what he did to drive Johnny to kill."

He clenched his fists. "I'm out of my mind," he added. "This was a bad idea. I shouldn't be talking to you about this."

"Please Steve," I begged.

"You're my kid sister, for Christ's sakes," he went on. "And I'm talkin' to you about murder? That's all kinds of fucked up, and don't you dare tell me otherwise."

"I wasn't going to."

"Anyway, what I wanted to get at was Johnny didn't do that in cold blood."

I nodded, looking at my feet.

He grabbed my chin and forced me to look at him. "Hey, that's important," he insisted. "You know what, don't read the papers or watch the news. Promise me you won't."

"Why not?" I asked, giving him a confused look.

"'Cause they're gonna be wrong," he said firmly. "You got questions, you ask me, got it?"

I nodded, trying to wrap my head around the entire situation. I'd known people from our neighborhood had murdered before, but I'd have never in a million years guessed Johnny could do it. He seemed so nice. Steve said he was a good fighter, but good fighter didn't mean he could kill somebody.

I hated to admit it, but I'd though Steve was more capable of killing somebody than Johnny any day. He had a nasty temper, and it scared me to think about all he was capable of.

I couldn't get Johnny out of my mind even hours later. Sometimes my mind would wander, but when I saw how worried Steve looked, I'd remember instantly. I wondered what would happen to Johnny. Would they try him as an adult and ship him off to death row? That was what they usually did to the poor kids at least, and the more I dwelled on it, the sicker it made me.


	11. Chapter 11

Disclaimer: I don't own.

* * *

Rosie was back. I knew because I'd heard her crying.

I guess it was my day to eavesdrop on everybody. First Steve, and now her and Dad. This time, there was no way I'd get caught; the walls were so thin, all I had to do was press my ear to the wall where their room was, and I could hear _everything_.

"We'll figure somethin' out, baby, don't worry," I heard my father say. She didn't say anything. She just kept crying, and I wished I'd have listened in sooner so I'd know why.

Something was up. They'd done nothing but bicker the past year, and now he was being so nice to her.

"This could be a real good thing," he went on.

"_How_?" she finally spoke. "How could this possibly be a good thing? This is a terrible place for a kid!"

"C'mon now…"

"Who're we kidding, Charlie?" she snapped back. "You're a shitty father, and I'm a shitty mother."

He sighed loud enough for me to hear it, and I finally understood what they were talking about. At first I was selfish enough to think she was crying about me, but when she said "kid" she wasn't talking about me; she was talking about a baby.

She was pregnant.

I moved away from the wall, plopped down on my bed, and rubbed my forehead tensely.

I was stunned.

xxxx

**_September 27th, 1966_**

The next couple days drove me crazy. I kept waiting on Rosie to tell me her big news, and the longer I waited, the more upset I got. My father was quiet too, and I just wanted one of them, preferably her, to break the secret to me.

What really got to me was they started getting along a heck of a lot better. It was eerie, damn it. Not even a week ago, they were gonna set separated, and now that she was pregnant, they were gonna pretend everything was okay?

I needed to calm down; I was acting so much like Steve about this, it scared me. A baby should've made me happy, considering I'd always wanted a little brother or sister, but instead, I was bitter, bitter, bitter and taking it out on everyone and everything.

Now it was Tuesday, and school was just as hard it was last week. I'd held it together yesterday, but by Mrs. Fox's class today, I couldn't stand it anymore, and what beautiful timing too. Of all my classes, I was breaking down in the middles of hers; I crossed my arms over my desk and threw my head into them, not even pausing to think she'd notice and jump all over me.

Instead of whacking my desk with the ruler this time, she whacked my arm.

I flinched and looked up at her. Her forehead was always ten times more wrinkled when she was pissed, and it looked like saggy leather to begin with.

"Don't give me that look, young lady," she scolded.

"What look?" I asked, and the ruler came down again.

I rubbed my forearm where'd she'd hit me and mumbled a cuss word under my breath.

"Go to the office, Miss Randle," she said, glaring at me.

I stared off to the side and hesitated. I started panicking. I'd never been sent to the office before, not even in elementary school. Steve and his friends told me horror stories about what happened there; I didn't need to find out if they were true.

"Now," Mrs. Fox added sternly, pointing to the door. "Or I'll escort you there myself."

I got up quickly and listened.

Once in the hallway, I walked very, very slowly, but too afraid to get myself in deeper shit, I still had every intention of listening to her. At least until I ran into Angela.

"Where're you goin'?" she asked, raising an eyebrow smugly. "Skipping class again, huh? Wow, I'm rubbin' off on ya."

"Shut up, Angela," I said impatiently. "I got sent to the office."

"Keep your voice down, you moron," she whispered. "C'mon let's get you out of here."

She hooked her arm around mine and dragged me outside. I didn't even fight it. She led me to a secluded area behind the school and lit up a cigarette.

"Good timing, Julia," she said, pressing it to her lips. "Did you plan this to coincide with my smoke break so I could rescue you?"

I looked at her funny. "Mr. Paulson lets you take a smoke break?"

She shrugged. "Tim and Curly gave him low expectations for me."

I nodded. I could easily see that. Her brothers were even worse to teachers than Steve.

"He's so old I don't even think he notices anyway," she went on. "I just leave when I want."

"Wish I had the guts to do that," I whined.

She snorted. "You'd get caught."

"Shut up, Angela."

"You look like shit," she said and held out a cigarette for me. "Take a cancer stick and smoke it before you get yourself all worked up over nothin'. I've been sent to the office a billion times."

I frowned. "Who says I'm upset?"

"Your face does, that's who."

I sighed. She was right, and I was even more nervous now that I was cutting class again. "You ever ditch after they send you there?"

"Are you kidding me?" she laughed. "_Every_ time they don't bother to drag me there themselves."

"Did you get in more trouble?" I asked anxiously.

"Relax," she said, pushing the cigarette closer to me. "They probably won't even notice. Lots of kids go to school here, y'know."

Yeah, but there was only one Mrs. Fox, and she hated me so much, she'd probably check up with the principal to make sure I went.

I was in such deep shit, but it was too late to drag myself there now.

xxxx

With Angela's prodding, I'd smoked five cigarettes before school got out. I told her what happened, she laughed herself hoarse, and every time I said something about being worried, she shoved another cigarette at me. It was the most I'd ever had in a row, and I was coughing up a storm.

"Hey Julia," I heard a voice behind me. It was Marie Greenwood.

Angela approached her. "Get lost unless you wanna swallow your teeth," she told her, and Marie disappeared, but then Angela caught sight of James and ditched me.

That's when Marie reemerged. "I'm sorry about what happened," she said, and her voice was way too nice to be genuine. "Mrs. Fox can be really mean, can't she?"

"Why the hell are you being nice to me?" I asked, glaring at her.

"I'm a nice a person."

She smiled the worst fake smile ever, and I shook my head. There was some motive behind this. "Leave me alone," I told her bitterly. She liked to play this game in elementary school; she'd be nice to be for a few days and then flip on me like wildfire.

"Fine," she said. "I was just going to tell you something you probably should know, but if you're going to be bitchy about it, I'll leave."

"Wait." I went after her and stopped her. Curiosity was evil. "I'm sorry, I'm just in a bad mood today. What'd you wanna tell me?"

"I saw your boyfriend with another girl," she said slowly. "I know we're not really friends, but from one girl to another, I thought you'd want you to know."

"Why does everybody keep sayin' I have a boyfriend?" I threw my hands up in the air. "I don't have a boyfriend!"

"That's not want Leslie said. He begged me not to tell you."

I don't know what got into me, but something snapped. Maybe it was what she said. Maybe it was Steve's missing friends or Rosie's baby, but whatever it was, I just lost it when I heard Leslie's name.

Everything happened so fast. I shoved her so hard she fell, and when she got up, I punched her. It was the first time I'd punched anybody. Well, aside from Steve, but that didn't even count. He just laughed at me because I was too weak to do any damage. Marie was a different story though; there was blood dripping from her nose, and tears streaming down her cheeks.

"I'm sorry," I said weakly, trying to apologize, but she just sneered at me. This wasn't supposed to happen, I was only supposed to dream about it, and it was so much better in my dreams. I felt triumphant and amazing, but now I felt like crap.

I groaned, noticing Angela was laughing behind me, along with a billion other kids who'd gathered around us. _Goddamnit_, Angela. Of course she'd think this was funny, but before I could even say anything to her, I found myself being dragged back into the school by my upper arm.

I didn't even know who the teacher was or how they had seen me, but the next thing I knew I was sitting in front of the principal. Marie was sitting there too, giving me dirty looks.

Mr. Hanson sat down and folded his hands. "I'd expect this kind of thing out of your brother, Julia, but a nice little girl like you?" He shook his head, and I swallowed hard. "Now I want to hear Marie's side of it first. Then I'll hear yours and we'll talk about how much trouble you're in. Marie?"

"I didn't do anything," Marie lied, still sobbing. "She just hit me out of nowhere, Mr. Hanson, I swear!"

I rolled my eyes and he turned to me. "Is that true?" he asked.

"Kind of," I said. "But she's always so mean to me and I couldn't take it anymore!" It was the damn truth too, so he'd better believe it.

"That's no excuse to hit someone," he told me firmly, and then he flagged down his secretary to take Marie out so he could talk to me alone.

I started crying when the door shut, but much to my shock, Mr. Hanson was calm. "Take a few deep breaths, Julia," he said, taking note of my tears. "I'm not as big and scary as I look."

"Thanks," I said weakly.

"I've seen Marie's dirty work, so believe me, I'm not blaming just you," he assured me. "But unfortunately that problem isn't the only thing we need to talk about. Mrs. Fox told me you disrupted her class. She sent you here, didn't she?"

I nodded anxiously.

"You should've been in my office immediately after she sent you."

"I know." I looked at my feet. "I'm sorry."

"Why weren't you?"

"I… I was nervous."

He stared at me for a moment, but then his serious face broke and he chuckled a bit. "You know, your brother used to argue up a storm whenever he was in here," he said. "I was expecting the same from you."

"That doesn't surprise me."

"You ready to hear your punishment?"

I nodded.

"You're suspended for a day," he said. "And I'm going to call your father and discuss this with him. Is he home now?"

Suspension didn't sound too awful, but calling my dad always did. I gave him our number hesitantly, hoping Rosie would pick up. She was more likely to be home now than him anyway.

I watched nervously as he dialed. It must've been my father because he addressed whoever answered as Mr. Randle.

I slunk in my seat and waited for him to get off the phone. He certainly didn't spare my dad any details, and I was gonna be in so much trouble later. "All right, Julia," he said finally. "You can wait outside with Ms. Smith. He'll be here to pick you up soon."

"Okay."

"I don't want to see you in here again now," he added sternly.

"You won't, sir," I promised him.

I took a seat on the bench across from his secretary and waited what felt like an eternity.

"C'mon, Julia." I jumped when I heard my name, but was relieved to see Steve standing there instead of my father.

He grabbed my hand and pulled me up impatiently.

"Steve?" I asked when we'd gotten outside.

"You're lucky as hell Two-Bit and I decided to play hooky today," he told me. "And even luckier Two-Bit decided to impersonate Dad on the phone."

"But Steve..."

"Shut up," he said, and he was dead silent until we got home.

When we arrived he drug me inside, and Two-Bit grinned at us.

"Hey, Julia! Heard you slugged somebody." He got up to high-five me. "I think we should give you a tuff nickname now, huh?"

"Don't encourage her," Steve popped in before I could even speak to Two-Bit. "If it was your sister you wouldn't be sayin' that."

"You're absolutely right, man," he said with a chuckle. "If it was Rachel, I'd be giving her tips on how to break the bitch's nose next time." He winked at me, and Steve grumbled.

"How 'bout you beat it before I break your nose?"

"Is that a promise?" Two-Bit smirked and patted my shoulder sympathetically. "Good luck with your hacked off brother, kid."

As soon as he was gone, I tried to make a break for my room—the last thing I wanted or needed was a lecture from Steve—but of course he stopped me. "You're not going anywhere," he said, grabbing my arm. "I wanna talk to you."

"Does Dad know about this?" I asked.

"No, but you should be more worried about me than him right now."

That made me nervous.

"Can I at least explain myself before you yell at me?" I hadn't meant for it to sound snappy, but it probably did.

"Explain what?" he went on, rubbing his head. "How you punched somebody?"

I crossed my arms and glared at him. "But you punch people," I shot back. "All the time. You of all people should be proud of me!"

"Why would I be proud?" He threw his hands up and began to pace. "Proud you're turning into a little Angela? Yeah, sure. I'm _real_ proud of you now."

I turned away from him. "Steve, please," I pleaded with him, tears welling up in my eyes.

"No, no cryin'," he yelled. "I don't wanna see your tears right now."

"But you keep yelling at me!" I said, trying to stop them.

"Then you should stop and think about why I'm yelling at you," he insisted. "And learn somethin' from it."

"How'm I supposed to learn somethin' if I don't even know why you're yelling at me?" I cried, and he just shook his head at me.

"I already told ya," he said firmly. "I don't want you morphing into Angela's twin, but if you go around ditching class, and tryin' to steal things, and punching people…What else am I s'pposed to think?"

"But I only skipped class a couple times, and I didn't actually steal anything, and I only punched her once!"

"You skipped class more than once?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

_Damn it_. In my upset, I'd forgotten he only knew about that one time. "Yeah," I admitted. He was going to kill me now. "But I won't do it again, I promise."

"I thought you were done after I talked to you a couple weeks ago," he said, clenching his jaw. "And lemme guess, it was Angela again, wasn't it?"

I backed myself up a few feet and tried to avoid him.

"Well?" he pressed again, approaching me.

"Yes," I admitted, and his face got redder.

"God, Julia." He balled his fists and glared at me. "I thought I said I didn't want you hanging around her any longer!"

"She's my friend," I whined. "I can't just ditch her, Steve, I can't."

"Well, you better figure out a way how," he persisted. "'Cause it's the last time I'm gonna tell ya, and I mean that."

I nodded in hopes he'd shut up, even though_ he_ was gonna have to learn to deal with it, because I _wasn't_ ending my friendship anytime soon. This argument was ridiculous on so many levels. It wasn't fair. He had no right to yell at me about skipping class and punching people when it did it nearly every day.

"No more Angela," he repeated himself, pointing his finger at me. "Got it?"

"I heard you the first time, Steve."

"Don't get smart," he warned. "I'm on my last goddamned nerve with you, kid."

"You know, you don't have to take this out on me, just 'cause you're pissed Pony and Johnny are still gone."

He fell silent for a moment, and I immediately knew I was right. "This ain't about them," he said.

"Don't kid yourself," I said, knowing it'd get to him. "It is and you know it."

He grabbed my arm and got right in my face. "You got a lot of nerve, kid."

"Fuck you, Steve."

I expected him to slap me, but it was still worth it to say.

He didn't though; he just stormed off, and that was when I realized how mean I'd just been.

I tried to go after him, but he was already gone.


	12. Chapter 12

Disclaimer: I don't own.

Thanks to xmusecliox for inspiring me to include the Leslie scene in this chapter! :)

* * *

I sat on the floor right where I was and fiddled with the carpet fibers to distract myself. I hated how I felt right now. Guilty and angry at the same time, and I was mostly mad at myself.

Steve was frustrating, but it was wrong to use Johnny and Pony's situation to my advantage. It was cruel and I knew it. If only I'd have found something else to say, something equally mean without being evil to get through to him. Maybe I wouldn't feel guilty for being hacked then. My moodiness would be 100 percent justified, and I could sulk and bitch as much as I damn well pleased. I mean, I wasn't wrong to be upset. He was completely unfair, and if he expected me to listen to him, he'd better start leading by example. How dare he make me ditch my best friend when his had been to jail not once but multiple times. Dallas Winston had been to jail more times than all of their friends combined, and Angela hadn't been arrested once.

I could never do anything Steve got to. I couldn't skip school, couldn't steal, couldn't fight, couldn't all the other things he did every goddamned day. I couldn't even cuss without him accusing me of sounding like one of those skanky girls.

I sighed and threw my back against the floor. I stared at the ceiling and counted the cracks until I lost count around ten or so. The one directly above my head leaked so bad whenever we got a thunderstorm we'd have to take turns getting up at night to empty and replace the bucket, and I thought it'd be just my luck that it'd start raining now and drip all over me. It'd drip all over me, and I'd be too sulky to get up and move out of the way.

I pressed my hands to my face and thanked God I was the only person home right now, or this would've been pretty damn embarrassing.

I stayed on the floor for a while, taking a few deep breaths, but never quite finding enough energy to sit up.

"What in God's name?" I heard Rosie mumble as she clanked through the door. She walked a few feet and stopped in front of me.

I pulled myself to sit and leaned on my knees. "Hi, Rosie."

"What're you doin' on the floor?"

"Steve and I were bickering," I said, deciding to just be honest.

"But why would you…" she started and paused. "Forget it. Your daddy make it home yet?"

She looked incredibly flustered, too much so to just be frustrated with me lying on the floor like a brat.

"No," I said. "Why?"

"I need to talk to him," she said with a sigh.

I looked at her funny. "Why?"

"Just adult stuff, honey," she said and held her hand out to me.

I took it and she helped me up.

"He'll be home soon," she said. "How 'bout you go play with one of the neighborhood kids or somethin'?"

I grumbled. I hated it when they did this to me, but I nodded reluctantly.

She pulled me into a hug and kissed the top of my head. "Thanks, sweetie."

xxxx

I decided to walk to Les's. I had to be honest with myself, I was starting to wonder about what Marie had said. It wasn't that I didn't trust him or that I didn't think she was capable of making something up just to anger me… I guess it was just a small sliver of doubt I had to address before it drove me crazy.

Maybe I really did like him in _that_ way. Not that I wanted to kiss him yet, but if he was gonna kiss another girl, I'd rather it be me.

I knocked on their front door and waited.

One of his little sisters opened the door and a giant smirk formed across her lips.

"Hey," I said.

She didn't say anything. She just whipped around and screamed into the house, "Leslie! That girl you got a crush on is here!"

I groaned inwardly and stood there awkwardly, hoping he'd come soon. His other brothers and sisters were laughing at what their sister had just said.

"I ain't got a girlfriend, Jodie," Les told her. "She's just my friend."

"Uh huh," Jodie teased. "Then how come you draw pictures for her?"

He looked so embarrassed whatever paranoia I'd had about what he was doing left me. Just as I suspected, Marie was being a lying sack of shit. I smiled at him, and his sister giggled. "She likes you too!"

"Shush," he said impatiently and pushed his way past her.

He stepped outside, shut the door behind him and sighed. "Thank God you're here," he said. "They're driving me nuts."

We walked to a nearby park and sat on a bench. He got quiet then. On the way he told me his brother James had given him the black eye he was sporting, and it once again, made me feel better about Steve. I was still angry at my brother, but I was lucky I was his sister and not a brother. I'd bet anything he'd have socked me thousands of times by now if I were a boy.

I wondered why James was so mean to him though. Les said James wanted him to be a tough hood like the guys he ran with, but I still didn't get it. I liked Les fine the way he was.

I thought about telling him about Steve's and my fight, but I decided not to. His fight was probably worse than mine, and I'd feel like I was complaining for no good reason. I didn't like to talk about stuff that went on at home anyway. Sometimes I wished I could find the courage to whine about it, especially when it got as crazy as it had been in the past couple weeks, but I usually kept to myself. Sometimes I could talk to Angela, and I used to be able to talk to Rosie, but the only person I ever really said anything to was Steve and that was because he made half the time.

"So I heard you decked Marie Greenwood," Les said after a while.

I clammed up and nodded.

"Good," he said almost like he was happy about it. "She was bein' such a cow to me today."

I raised an eyebrow. Even though the paranoia was gone, I was still curious about what happened. "What'd she do?"

"I was tryin' to help Penny with her homework at lunch," he explained. "And then out of nowhere, she walks up to me asks me if you knew I was hangin' out with another girl."

I groaned. Penny was his sister for Christ's sakes. "She told me she saw you with another girl," I told him. "And that you begged her not to tell me. What a lyin' piece a shit."

He blushed. "Honest, I just begged her to leave me the hell alone."

"Don't worry," I assured him. "I believe you."

I was definitely glad I'd punched her now.

xxxx

When I got home, I was surprised to see Steve home already, and even more surprised to see my father only a couch cushion away from him. They were sitting in the same room and not screaming at each other. It made me nervous, like something major had happened. That was the only time they got along, after all.

Steve took a drag of the cigarette between his fingers, turned to me and gave a slight nod.

I crossed my arms around myself and chewed on my lip; I hadn't expected the opportunity to apologize to come so soon. The desire to do so had come and gone after I chased after him, and now that he was in front of me, all I could think about was how if I apologized, he'd take it to mean he was right to yell at me. He was stubborn that way. There was no chance in hell he'd apologize, and I didn't feel like it if he wouldn't, not to mention my father was sitting right there. He'd want to know why I was apologizing, and then in turn why Steve had yelled at me, and I didn't even have to ask Steve to know neither of us wanted that.

"Hey," I said quietly, unable to stand the silence any longer.

Steve stared at me for a moment with a raised eyebrow.

Dad glared at me. "Where were you?" He sounded more agitated than usual. "I was worried sick."

"With a friend," I muttered, really confused. Rosie wanted to talk to him and she would've told him where I went, right?

"Ever heard of leaving a note?"

"But Rosie told me to go to play with my friends," I said quietly.

"Goddamnit, Julia." He threw the empty bottle in his hand on the ground and shards of glass splattered all over the carpet. Something had definitely happened while I was gone.

He walked up to me and grabbed my arm. "You should leave one even if I ain't here, or even if you think she's gonna tell me, 'cause I got news for you, she didn't."

I swallowed hard. "You're right, I'm sorry," I said, too afraid to argue.

Steve sat up slightly. He glanced at me and bobbed his head to Dad to let me know he was watching him from behind, and it made me feel slightly better.

Dad was still glaring at me though. His eyes were bloodshot, and the way he looked at me made me feel about five inches tall instead of the almost five feet I was.

"I'm really sorry, Dad," I repeated again, even though I still had no idea what I'd done wrong. I mean, Les and I had talked a long time and it was a little dark when I got home, but Rosie had told me to leave. This wasn't my fault.

The look he gave me unnerved me, and he began to drag me away. "It's a little late for sorry," he said. "Mark my words, little girl, I'm gonna make damn sure this never happens again."

I looked for Steve and panicked when I didn't see him on the couch, but then I realized he was already in front of us.

Dad grumbled and narrowed his eyes when he noticed him but stopped dead in his tracks to face him. "Don't you even dare try an' stop me," he said, gripping my arm tighter.

I mumbled a curse word from the pain, and he smacked me upside the head. "What'd you say to me?"

"I…"Steve moved and got his hands on him before I could even answer. He slugged him hard enough he lost his grip on me and I tumbled over.

I scooted back a couple feet, and Dad turned around long enough to point his finger at me. "You better keep your trap shut 'til I'm done with your brother."

Steve used the brief pause as another opportunity to get a swing in, and I cringed, knowing this could end awful for him.

I wanted to run, but I was too petrified to pull myself off the floor. I pulled my knees to my chest, buried my face in them and cried as quietly as I possibly could, worrying crying too loudly might count as not keeping my trap shut.

Dad was drunk. If couldn't tell before, I definitely could now, and I was beginning to wonder if Steve might be too. They went at each other for a while, both verbally and physically, and then it got quiet. Oddly quiet.

I peered up hesitantly, wishing I'd have run or at least paid more attention to what they were saying. If Steve lost I was in for it, but when I looked up fully, I was surprised to find them both relatively unharmed and simply glaring at each other.

"What the hell's wrong with you?" Steve said to him. "It ain't her fault you married a bitch."

I gasped and held my breath, expecting Dad to put him in a coma for that, but instead he just stood there and balled a fist… I didn't get it. Any of it. Steve hated Rosie, but I'd never once heard him call her something like that and get away with it.

The silence continued, and I grew more and more confused. I didn't get why he'd told Dad it wasn't my fault, or why Dad was mad at Rosie in the first place. It had to be what she'd wanted to talk to him about, but they had been getting along so much better…

"This ain't about that," Dad said, breaking the silence, but his face said otherwise.

Steve seemed to know exactly what he was talking about too.

In some foolish burst of confidence, I stood up. "What's goin' on?" I demanded.

I wasn't even sure who I was addressing. Dad… Steve… Rosie maybe, even though she wasn't here.

"Would somebody please tell me what the fuck is goin' on?" I repeated when neither of them answered me.

Steve sighed and pulled me close to his side. "I'll tell ya later," he whispered in my ear.

"No, now," I said loudly and firmly. "And I want _him_ to tell me."

I was feeling brave, but not quite brave enough. From the protection of Steve's side, I glared at my father and found the courage to speak up again. "I'm sick of bein' lied to!" I said through tears.

"I don't know what the hell you're talkin' about," Dad shot back at me. "I ain't ever lied to you."

"Oh yeah? What about Mom?"

"I told you once, I told you a thousand times, she got sick!" he hollered so loud it made my ears hurt.

I shook my head. "Steve told me she killed herself," I kept on. "And you had another son named Jesse."

Steve elbowed me hard, but I wasn't done. "And you never told Rosie, and that's probably why you have so many goddamned problems now!"

Dad didn't say anything. He just stood in front of us with a look I couldn't pinpoint; it was shock mixed with the deepest sadness, and if I didn't know any better, I'd say he was near tears.

Steve sighed. "Well, I'd say ya brought that on yourself, Charlie," he told Dad bitterly. "Why don't you get the hell outta here 'fore you ruin somethin' else?"

Steve took a step toward him and Dad glared back. "I ain't done with either of you," he said.

He shoved Steve out of his way and stormed out.

I breathed a heavy sigh of relief until my eyes met Steve's.

I'd have thought he'd be proud of me, but he didn't look it.


	13. Chapter 13

Disclaimer: I don't own.

* * *

"Glory, Julia. Were you tryin' to get yourself beat?"

He glared at me, and I shook my head.

"For Christ's sakes, you're playin' with fire when you push him like that!"

"But you do it all the time..."

"Now is not the time to argue about that." He grabbed my cardigan sleeve and shook it slightly. "You'd think it'd be pretty damn obvious why, but it's always 'I can't do what you do' with you."

"But it's true," I whined.

"Why don't you go ahead and try it then? Go right ahead, next time I ain't here, next time he's drunk, push all his buttons 'til he belts you senseless. Is that what you want?"

"No," I said, almost inaudible, and he let me go.

Silence followed for a long time. He paced, glaring at me every so often, and I just watched him, hoping he'd simmer down soon.

"Look, I ain't gonna deny half the shit I say is meant to provoke him." He stopped pacing for a moment and massaged his temples. "It is, okay? It is, but hell, I can take it, Jule. If he takes a swing at me, I can take one right back. It ain't no different than when I'm pounding somebody at a rumble."

He paused again and looked at me, this time with less anger in his eyes. "I think I do more damage to him than he does to me now," he said, his tone less harsh. "But you, you're just a little kid. He goes after you, you can't fight back. Get what I'm sayin'?"

He sighed, and I rubbed at my eyes, thinking about how scared I'd been and realized he was right. I never thought my father could wail on me the same way he did Steve, but the last times he'd gotten upset with me were making that a closer and closer reality. Thinking about it made me nauseous. The handful of times he'd laid a hand on me had been awful enough, and it was petrifying to think he could do worse. I don't think he'd ever mean to hurt me, but when his anger or drinking got the best of him, he was unpredictable.

"You pull that shit at the wrong time, and you'll be in for a world of hurt," Steve went on, and his words made the thoughts in my head even worse. "You've been damn lucky so far, so don't push it. You can't bank on me to stop it every time."

I nodded and clutched my stomach. Damn it, he never sidestepped anything, did he?

He walked up to me with a concerned look. "You still with me, kid?" he asked, gripping my shoulders.

I couldn't answer that. There was an aching pit in my gut, and I was beginning to feel light-headed. My vision blurred, and I tried to steady myself, but my knees buckled and I dropped quickly.

"Shit," I heard Steve yell, and then everything went black. "Julia!"

I blinked, and that was when I realized I was on the floor. The world came back slowly, and startled by the fall, I starting crying.

"I don't feel good, Steve."

"Yeah, I can see that," he grumbled, but he was kneeling beside me, holding my hand in his. "I think it's just nerves, kiddo. Evie does this sometimes when she gets real upset. You'll be okay in a bit."

I took a few deep breaths and tried to sit up, but I paled again.

"Stay down." Steve put his hand on my shoulder to prevent me from getting up. "You'll pass out again if you sit up too quick."

I nodded and tried to relax. After a while, I attempted to get up again. He helped me sit up and I leaned on his arm for support. "You start feelin' weird, you lay down again, dig?" he said.

"Okay."

"So where were you?" he asked.

I shrugged.

"I ain't gonna get mad if you lied to Dad," he assured me. "I just wanna know."

"But I didn't lie. Rosie told me to go off so she could talk to Dad."

He scowled, and I got suspicious. "What'd they talk about?" I asked.

"I dunno, I wasn't here then," he said, and I got a strong hint he was lying.

"Please, Steve," I begged. "You said you'd tell me later!"

"I honest to God don't know." He sounded annoyed. "Now if you'll gimme a damn second, I'll tell ya what I do know, okay?"

"Okay."

"They had a fight about somethin'," he said, his tone somber. "I dunno what, but when they were done, he was drowning himself in a bottle, and then the genius realizes you're nowhere to be found."

I raised an eyebrow. "How come you know that if you weren't here?"

"He showed up at Soda's, smartass," he said. "And he told me he thought you were missing. He was panicking."

"Well, Rosie should've told him, and I wasn't even gone that long!"

"Well, she didn't," he replied. "And I didn't think Johnny and Pony'd be gone for long either, but it's been days."

He had a blank expression on face, but his eyes looked sad.

"I'm sorry, Steve…" I put my hand on shoulder to try to comfort him.

"What're you sorry for?" he asked sharply. "It ain't your fault she forgot to tell 'im."

"Not that," I said quietly. "I meant…" I trailed off. He wasn't paying attention.

He was going on about what a bitch she must've been, but I knew it wasn't the real reason he was upset. He was only spinning it back to her to avoid what was really bothering him, and she was the convenient scapegoat. "I wish I knew what she'd said," he told me, his hands shaking with frustration. "He mumbled some shit about her, but it made no sense. Somethin' about lying. Damn it, I dunno. He was too upset and boozed up to make sense."

The part about lying caught my attention instantly. Lying about being pregnant? She didn't seem like the kind of person to do something like that, but I couldn't think of anything else that made sense. I rested my elbows on my knees and planted my forehead in my hands.

"Lay down if you're dizzy again," he reminded, but I ignored him.

I was thinking about Rosie still, and I wouldn't wrap my head around it. I decided finally that adults were no better than children about fighting and lying, maybe even worse.

"Hey." He poked my arm after a couple minutes. "You're suspended tomorrow, right?"

I looked up. "Yeah."

"Well." He paused and looked deep in thought for a moment. "Guess we gotta figure out where you're gonna go then."

I gave him a confused look. "Why?"

"You really wanna stay here?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. "Don't you think I layed into you enough over what happened at school?

"Well, yeah," I agreed. "I mean, Christ, Steve, I think you yelled at me enough for the next decade."

"Let's not give Dad one more reason to be pissed at you then." He sighed. "Just one thing though, you always gotta be so mouthy?

I rolled my eyes. "Learned from the best, and you're worse than me."

"Smartass," he said, but he was grinning, almost like he was proud of it.

"Say, I'll make you a deal," he went on. "You promise me to ditch this little rebel act or whatever the heck it is, and I'll let you come with me wherever I end up goin' tomorrow."

My face lit up. He never let me go anywhere with him. "Really?"

He nodded, and then my excitement dwindled once I realized what he was doing—bribing me into getting his way on the Angela issue. "Can I add a few conditions to that?" I asked, content I was actually one step ahead of him this time.

He grumbled and ran a hand through his hair. "I'm tryin' to be nice to you, damn it."

"Well, somebody I know told me not to make a stupid deal once," I said, looking directly at him. "He said, and I quote, 'Get your fair half outta it'."

He gave me one hell of a look, but didn't seem hacked enough that I couldn't argue with him. "I ain't makin' that up," I said.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever you say, kid." He smirked, and I could tell he was more amused than he was willing to admit. "That somebody also meant you were only s'pposed to use that against other people, not him."

"He never said that."

"No, but still he meant it," he insisted. "But what the hell, lay it on me—what exactly are these conditions?"

"I'm stayin' friends with Angela," I said firmly.

His face tensed up again and he shook his head. "Hell no."

"She's not that bad…"

"Not that bad?" he went on. "For Christ's sakes, do I gotta explain why she's a bad influence on you? It ain't rocketscience. The whole world can see it 'cept you apparently."

"Steve," I said calmly.

"You want me to give you reasons?" he asked, but didn't even wait for me to reply. "I'll give you plenty. One, I don't like her…"

"That's a reason?"

"Damn right it is," he said "Actually that's the best reason, I shouldn't even have to continue."

"Well, I think that's the best reason to keep bein' her friend," I mumbled, but he ignored my comment and kept listing.

"Two, she's a manipulative little shit. Three, she's got you in trouble how many times now?" He looked at me with a raised eye. "How many?"

Asking me that was like asking him how many times he and Soda had ever done something crazy. "I dunno," I said finally. There were too many to count, and regardless of what I said, he was gonna use it against me.

"Well, if you don't know, we'll count that as a hundred reasons," he said. "And last but not least, she's a Shepard. Need I say more?"

"But I thought you liked Tim!"

"I dunno about like," he said. "Respect him sure, but there's a reason I ain't in his gang."

I gave him a funny look. Was he trying to tell me Tim was too wild for him even? I always figured the reason Steve wasn't in Shepard's gang was 'cause he couldn't take an order, not that he thought Tim was too much of a hood. I mean, Steve and Tim would clash all the time if he were a member. The only man my brother'd ever listened to was Mr. Curtis.

Steve ignored my look and kept rambling about Angela. "So if you haven't already guessed," he said. "I still think she's a little demon spawn."

"Demon spawn? Really, Steve?"

He nodded, and I shook my head at him.

"One of these days she's gonna be the next Sylvia," he said, so sure of himself.

"Know what I think? I think you give her way too much credit. She's not as notorious as you think."

"_Yet_," he argued. "But she's already flirting with guys my age."

I groaned. Gee, I'd never heard this before, but it was the main reason he couldn't stand her, after all. I still remember the first time he'd ever seen her do that. It was this summer, and he about talked my ear off about how wrong it was to see her in Buck's and told me I'd better not get within a hundred feet of the place.

I also remember Angela telling me Tim wasn't pleased, but I think she'd made it a personal challenge to herself to see how much she could get away with behind his back. She got some smug satisfaction from it or something.

"So do we have a deal?" Steve asked.

"Yeah, I guess so." I still wasn't gonna ditch Angela, but he didn't have to know that.

"Good." He smiled at me weakly. "I think you should get some sleep now."

He patted my arm and moved to help me up. "It's gettin' late," he added.

"Not that late," I whined.

"Yeah, I know, but you've had a rough night, and you look like shit."

I knew that, but I was worried about Dad coming back, especially when I remembered he said he wasn't done with us. "But what if he comes back while I'm asleep?"

"I doubt it," he said with a sigh. "Probably puking in someone else's toilet."

"He said he wasn't done with us…"

"Don't think about it too hard, Jule," he said softly. "I think that was just for scare."

"Well, it worked then."

He sighed and pulled me into a hug. "Now you're gonna be okay," he said. "We're gonna be okay."

"How do you know?" I asked weakly, and he hugged me tighter.

"I'm the smartest man on earth," he teased. "I know everything."


	14. Chapter 14

Disclaimer: I down own

* * *

**September 28th, 1966**

The pressure of someone sitting on my bed woke me up the next day. I rolled over and sighed. "Go away, Steve," I mumbled, chucking a pillow at him.

"It's me," Dad said, and I yanked myself up quickly.

He placed the pillow back on the bed, and I stared at him, absently digging my fingernails into my legs. He was in his painting clothes, ready to go to work, but I couldn't pinpoint when he'd gotten home…

"Did you sleep okay?" he asked.

I hesitated. It took me forever to fall asleep, and when I did, I woke up several times. First I saw a spider on my ceiling and made Steve kill it, then I couldn't fall back asleep because I kept imagining bugs crawling all over me, and then I had a nightmare about Dad and Rosie that was so realistic it could've happened. Funny I couldn't recall it now, but it was awful. Something about divorce and Rosie wanting to take me to live with her... All I know is I cried for an hour and Steve must've thought I should be in a loony bin by that point.

Dad reached out and brushed my messy hair behind my ear. "You okay, Julia?"

I shivered and pulled away. His jaw was tight and eyes sad, and I wondered if he even remembered last night. Steve told me people could forget what happened when they were drinking, I didn't know how that worked, but it seemed likely.

Or maybe he did remember, and that was why he was being so nice to me… I didn't know.

"I'm fine, Dad."

He stared at me with a pained expression, and I tried to hold eye contact with him to convince him I was fine, but I couldn't. I looked away. "Maybe you should take a day off and rest," he said. "You look a little pale. I'll call you in sick before I leave."

For a second I wondered if I should tell him I was suspended. He was being awful nice to me, and it seemed like a golden opportunity to be honest and not get in trouble, but I didn't trust him enough. His mood could change fast and I'd ruin the moment.

"No, it's a bad day to miss," I told him.

"You sure?" he asked.

I nodded.

"What kind of kid are you not wanting to miss a day of school?"

"A smart one."

A small grin formed across his lips. "Yeah, do me a favor an' make sure your brother goes too," he said. "I'll be damned if he drops out after makin' it this far…"

"Okay, Dad."

He smiled and moved to get up. "I'm already late," he added. "I better get goin'. Have a good day, honey."

"You too," I called after him and threw myself back on the bed as soon he was gone.

I couldn't wrap my head around what had just happened. It was strange, really strange, and I almost wanted to be pissed at him despite how nice he was being. I was relieved he didn't yell at me or anything like that, but it confused me.

Was he just gonna pretend everything was okay after he every time he was an asshole? Or after any time he had a fight with Rosie? I didn't get it.

It was how everything worked around here lately, and I couldn't stand it anymore. Either you blew up and made a huge scene, or you stormed out and ignored everything as though it'd never happened later. It seemed like every day one of them was gone over something that had happened. Dad… Rosie… Steve… Always one of them, but never me. I was always here.

I wondered where Dad went when he left. Steve went to Soda's or Two-Bit's, and Rosie probably her sister's or mother's, but I never knew where Dad went. It wouldn't have been a relative of ours, most of them hated him by now, but he had to go somewhere that was familiar to him for how often it happened.

I rolled over and pulled the covers over me again, refusing to think about it. Maybe I didn't wanna know. He was being nice today, so I should enjoy it while it lasted.

I fell asleep for a while, and woke up to Steve rattling my door an undetermined amount of time later.

"You better be up in a half hour or I'll leave without you," Steve growled at me.

"Fine." I sighed, pulling myself off the bed.

I threw on the first clean clothes I could find beneath the mess of dirty ones scattered on the floor, drug my feet to my dresser, and caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. My reflection was evil.

I picked up my comb and tried to detangle the mess of hair, wondering how Angela could possibly waste all her time in front of a mirror in the morning. It took me long enough to make sure my hair didn't look tangled and gross; making it look pretty would take hours, and that was just hair. She always wore makeup too.

I set the comb down, and when I looked up, I gasped at the discovery a zit the size of a pencil eraser on my chin. I rubbed it a bit to examine it, and it started hurting. Glory, it was hideous. Angela whined about having to cover them all the time, but I never understood what she was talking about until now. I tried to pop it, but only drew blood. Frustrated, I dug through one of the drawers and found the makeup Rosie gave me, but none of it looked like it'd work. There must've been special makeup for zits, but I didn't have any, so I tried putting on some of the powder that looked kinda skin-toned. I think it was supposed to be blush, but whatever it was just made the zit bigger and redder.

I gave up, threw the makeup on the dresser, and drug my feet to the kitchen. At least I wasn't going to school today…

"We still have that deal, right?" I asked Steve.

"Yeah."

"Okay, good, just makin' sure."

He looked up from his cereal bowl and gave me a funny look. "I don't flake on people," he said. "You better not be an annoying little shit though, or I'll bring you back here so fast."

"I'm not annoying." I grabbed the Cheerios box from him and poured myself a bowl.

"That's right," he said. "My apologies, you're perfect a little angel and a joy to be around."

"Very funny, Steve."

He smirked and snatched the box back from me, dumping the rest in his bowl.

"Hey, Steve?"

"I'm eating." He gave me a pointed look and ignored me, continuing to scarf down his cereal.

I cleared my throat.

He dropped the spoon in the bowl and cocked his head slightly to the side. "What?"

"Does my zit look really bad?" I frowned, pointing to my chin, and he stifled a laugh.

"Yeah, it looks like a mountain," he said, picking up the spoon again. "You better go live in a cave for the rest of your life."

"You don't have to be mean," I whined.

"You act like you're the first kid to ever get one."

I crossed my arms and glared at him. I wasn't acting like that; I just wanted to know if it looked bad.

"Eat your cereal," he said. "I heard it makes zits go away."

"Does not!"

"Okay, fine, you're right," he grumbled. "But we gotta leave before Dad takes a lunch break, don't we?"

I nodded.

"'Sides I gotta take care of something with Dally soon and it involves certain somebody that don't like to be kept waiting."

"Who?"

"None of your damn business," he said. "Grab a book or something before you go, will ya? You're stayin' in the car."

_Great_, I thought, but it was better than nothing; if I complained, he'd never let me do anything like this again.

xxxx

I forgot to grab a book before we left and was bored out of my mind trying not to be a nuisance. It was hard when simply talking was unwelcome. Steve must've reminded me at least fifty times to not to bug them before he met up with Dallas, so I didn't say much of anything after that. I remember saying "Hi, Dally," but he gave me this scowl that said only his friends could call him by his nickname.

Eventually I fell asleep in the backseat of the car during whatever it was they were doing. When I woke up, I kept still and pretended I was still asleep, so I could listen to their conversation.

"…when we beat the Socs tomorrow night," was the first thing I could make out.

"Can it, asshole," Steve whispered forcefully. "I think she's waking up."

"Well, shit. You just had to go and bring you fucking kid sister along?" Dallas started speaking louder. Probably on purpose. "Are you retarded?"

I rolled over and breathed deeply, like I was still asleep.

"I already told you, damn it," Steve grumbled quietly. "Think I wanted to do this? Believe me, I'd leave her whiny ass at home if I could."

I was sorely tempted to snap at him. I wasn't _that_ whiny, but I held my tongue and kept my eyes shut.

"It ain't like a had a choice, man," Steve went on. "I dunno what the hell Charlie's problem is right now, but…"

"Yeah, yeah, I heard you the first time, an' I still think you're an idiot, " Dallas cut him off. "I coulda done this shit alone. You're lucky it was just Shepard we were talkin' to."

"I ain't retarded. I wouldn't have brought her if it were anyone else," Steve said. "And in case you didn't notice, he's still pissed at you. You needed me to do the talking. Probably woulda been better if you hadn't come period, but you just had to insist on bein' a part of it. What the hell were you thinking slashing his tires anyway?"

"I didn't."

"Bullshit."

I hadn't opened my eyes, but I could just feel Steve glaring at him through the silence. Dallas was probably glaring at him too. Supposedly they were good friends, but maybe that was only when I wasn't around. Steve did say Dallas didn't like kids once.

"I gotta split," Dallas said, breaking the silence. "Tell everybody Shepard's in for sure, and tell Two-Bit he ain't goin' to Texas before he's stupid enough to do it…"

"Wait a minute, you tryin' to tell me they're _in_ Texas?" Steve demanded.

"It's what I told the fuzz."

"For Christ's sakes, Dally," Steve said. "We all know you know where they are, so will ya just put our minds at ease?"

"I don't know where they are," Dallas said in a straight tone. "I'd tell ya if I did, but Two-Bit's stayin' here, damn it. We'll need him tomorrow."

I heard the car door up and slam and assumed he was gone.

Steve groaned, and I thought about talking to him. I wanted to beg him not to fight in whatever it was they were doing tomorrow, but there was a fat chance he'd listen to me and I didn't need him thinking I'd heard the conversation.

xxxx

I must've fallen asleep again and stayed asleep for a long time because the next thing I knew Steve had carried me into our house and set me on my bed.

"Wait," I called after him as he started walking away.

He turned and looked at me. "What do you want?"

I guess I didn't know what I wanted, I just didn't want him to leave yet.

He ran a hand through his hair and came to sit next to me.

"You goin' somewhere?" I asked, hoping I could somehow worm it into what he was doing tomorrow.

"No, I'm stayin' here tonight," he said.

"What about tomorrow?"

"Damn it," he growled. "I knew you weren't asleep the whole time… Alright, what'd ya hear?"

"Dallas bein' loud," I said.

"Yeah, I'll bet you did," he said, clenching his fist, but he seemed more angry at Dallas than me.

"I heard somethin' about a rumble," I said.

He stared at me blankly. "You heard right," he admitted.

"Please don't fight in it," I said before I lost the courage to say so.

He sighed. "Kid, that's like tellin' Two-Bit to quit bein' a wisecracker."

I expected something along those lines, but I still didn't like it. He thought it was fun to get roughed up apparently, 'cause he did it all the time, but I just thought he was stupid.

"Don't worry about me," he said. "I'm a good fighter."

"Yeah, but Johnny killed one of the Socs," I said, thinking about it as I spoke, and it made me shudder. "They're gonna be extra mad."

"And you think we'll all just be rays of sunshine?" He laughed. "We're probably madder than them."

"You sound so sure."

"I am sure," he said confidently.

I wanted to slap him. His attitude was gonna get him in real trouble sometime. Real trouble like in jail… Maybe even worse than that, and he was worried about me and Angela.

xxxx

Rosie was back by that night, but I didn't get too excited about it. I was still trying to figure out why on earth she'd lie about being pregnant. I mean, I figured she was probably trying to stop them from splitting up, but of all the desperate things in the world, why that one?

She and Dad talked quietly in the kitchen for a while, so quietly I couldn't even hear them.

I pulled my feet up under me on the couch and sat as patiently as possible. They'd get louder or move out here eventually, I figured.

"No, I should be the one to tell her," I heard Rosie say loudly and firmly.

"Go ahead then," Dad spat back.

I waited a few minutes before Rosie finally appeared.

She looked awful nervous and approached me slowly. "Hi, honey," she said when she was in front of me. "How was school?"

I scowled at her, wishing she wouldn't make small talk and just tell me whatever it was already.

"What's goin' on?" I asked when she didn't get the hint.

She curled her lip behind her teeth and looked to the ground.

"Between you and Dad," I added.

"We're gettin' separated."

"So, you're gettin' divorced…" I said, my voice shaking. I knew I was coming for a long time, and I knew she was mostly responsible for it, but I still didn't want to hear it. Maybe it was selfish to think, but I didn't want to be the only female around here again.

"No," she said, shaking her head. "I'm just gonna go live at my sister's for a while, and we'll see if we can work things out. Divorce and separation aren't the same thing, sweetie."

"Well, why don't you just get divorced now since you're gonna do it eventually anyway?" I asked. If I hadn't gotten gotten snappy I would've started crying.

"Julia!" I heard Dad from across the room. "If you run your mouth like that again, I'll…"

"I said I'd handle it, Charlie," Rosie shot back to him, but he was still eying me.

A long period of silence followed, and Dad left the room.

"Rosie," I piped up, as soon as I was sure he was gone. "Are you pregnant?"

I probably shouldn't have asked, but I needed to know for sure if she'd lied or not, and I wanted to hear it directly from her.

She looked away from me, and tears started to form in her eyes.

Steve was right about what he'd heard. She was a liar, I could see it all over her face, but then she caught by surprise when she nodded.

"Yeah," she said. "But I dunno whose kid it is…"


	15. Chapter 15

Disclaimer: I don't own.

* * *

If she was pregnant and didn't know who the baby's dad was, it could only mean one thing…

I swallowed and tried to find words. Rosie was a good person, and good people didn't do things like that. They just didn't. "You _cheated_ on him?" It came out louder than I intended.

I stared at her, desperate for answers, but she still refused to look at me.

"Why the hell would you do that?" I added.

"Julia!" Dad popped in the living room again. "You better watch it."

"Shit." She shook her head and brought her hands up to her face. "I shouldn't have said anything…"

"Damn right you shouldn't have," Dad said, approaching us. "I told you I should talk to her instead! Now look what you did… She's twelve for Christ's sakes."

"No," I said, turning to him. "I don't care that I'm twelve. I deserve to know!"

"Don't you dare argue with me right now."

I almost talked back, but the glare he gave me silenced me. I gritted my teeth. I was horrified to think she could actually do something like that to him. She didn't seem like that type of person … at all, and I was beginning to wonder if I ever really knew her.

"I think you should be done here," Dad said to Rosie, balling his fists.

"Can I just finish talking to her without you breathing down my neck?" She wiped stray tears off her cheeks and gave him an icy look.

He backed up a couple feet and crossed his arms, but he was still in the room. "Fine."

"Why'd you do it?" I asked in a quiet voice, even though I probably already knew the answer.

"Julia," Dad warned again. "Quit asking questions."

"It was a weak moment," she answered anyway. "And oh God… your dad's right, I shouldn't be talkin' to you about this. What kind of a person am I?"

I thought for a moment. Part of me wanted to assure her I didn't hate her, but the other, larger part of me was still pissed as hell. "A slut apparently," I hissed before I could think twice about it.

I'd wanted to say something mean, so I had, but as soon as she started sobbing, I wished I would've held my tongue. No matter how upset I was, she didn't deserve to be called that, and now I just felt like shit. I thought about chasing after her when she got up, but before I found the urge to move, she'd already left.

I hung my head down and stared at my feet.

Dad's voice caught me off-guard. "You're in trouble now," he grumbled.

"What?" I asked confused.

"I warned you about that mouth of yours, didn't I?" he said, grabbing my wrist and yanking me over to the couch with him.

I saw immediately what he intended to do and I started to panic. "Dad, please!" I cried, trying to be loud enough so Steve would hear me.

I tried to make a break for it, but it was too late. In one move he'd pinned me down and started spanking me.

I started crying right away; he only hit me a few times, but it hurt so much worse than when Rosie had hit me.

When he was done, he stood me up in front of him and held my forearms so I couldn't leave. "You don't say things like that," he said harshly. "You're just a little girl for Christ's sakes. What the hell's gotten into you running your mouth like a sailor?"

"I dunno," I mumbled.

"Well, I'll tell ya this much," he went on, his voice rising. "You're gonna start listenin' to me, damn it. The last thing I need is you gettin' a bad attitude like your brother, got it?"

I nodded, tears streaming down my face.

"Go to your room."

He released me and I listened right away.

xxxx

I cried for maybe an hour before I decided I was being too much of a baby. Kids got hit all the time, especially in our neighborhood, and most of them probably even worse than I had, but I was still hacked. Why would he punish me for calling her out on cheating against him? It didn't make sense…

I could only guess he still loved her if he was going to get that defensive over it. I thought about it, and how hurt he must've been, and it almost made me feel bad for him. Almost, but I was still mad.

Steve knocked on my door, and I thought, _way to show up now of all times_.

When I didn't invite him in, he came in anyway. I rolled over to my side to ignore him.

"What's up with you?" he asked.

"I thought you said you were stayin' here tonight," I told him bitterly.

"Yeah, well, Johnny and Pony came back," he said. "Sue me."

"They did?" I turned myself around to face him. As upset as I was, that was more important than me being resentful. "Are they okay?"

"Pony's great," he said, a huge wave of relief in his voice. "But Johnny…" He paused and shook his head. "He ain't doin' so hot."

I gave him a concerned look. "What happened?"

"Well, he got burned real bad trying to save some kids in a fire," he said, and I could tell he was worried. "Glory, you oughta hear what people are sayin' about them. They're heroes. It's gonna be all over the news."

"Think they'll let him off after that?" I asked, thinking about it. If you were a Greaser, you didn't stand much chance in court, but maybe if he was a hero, it'd be different.

Steve shrugged. "We're hoping so," he said. "It was self-defense too, but ya know they'll try an' spin it against him if they can."

I nodded, feeling a small pit in my stomach. Even after all these days and after them being found, I couldn't figure out how my brother's friend had managed to kill somebody. That stuff was supposed to be for real gangs. Real gangs like Angela's brothers maybe, but not Johnny.

"How come you're not still there?" I asked him, confused. I figured he'd be over there for days after their return.

"Darry was pretty damn adamant it was just them tonight," he said. "And the hospital ain't allowing too many visitors for Johnny that ain't family. They really oughta realize we're damn near the only family he's got..."

I nodded, thinking about Johnny's parents. Steve had told me about them a few times, and I'll bet they made what Dad did to me look like nothing.

"And I did tell you I was stayin' here tonight, didn't I?"

I smiled. He'd come a little late, but late was better than not at all.

"Unless, of course, you do decide to go live in that cave," he said, smirking. "Your zit's gotten bigger and uglier."

"Gee, thanks."

"Anytime."

xxxx

**September 30th, 1966**

It seemed like everybody I knew at school was talking about one of two things: the upcoming rumble or a party at Candy's house. Candy's parents were out of town and her sister Margo had decided to throw a party. She told Candy she could bring a few friends, so Candy asked Angela, and of course Angela nagged me about it all day.

I'd made it to the end of the day still saying no, but leave it to her to give me a convincing argument just as we were leaving school…

"C'mon," she whined "Your brother's gonna be too busy fighting to even know you went."

That was true, but I didn't think my dad would take too kindly to me going to a party either. "I dunno, Angel. My dad might get angry if he finds out too…"

"Didn't you say he was up in arms with your cheating stepmom?"

I glared at her, wishing I'd have never told her about that. She asked what was bothering me at lunch, and in a weak moment, I caved and told her. She was actually pretty nice to me about that. She didn't tell me I was ridiculous for being upset and worried; she just listened and ended by saying that stepparents were the worst. That part made me feel guilty. Rosie may have been going crazy, but she had nothing on her stepdad.

"Yeah," I replied late. "He'll probably go get drunk tonight or somethin'." And that's when it hit me; I didn't wanna be home when that happened, especially if he planned on coming home.

"Maybe we can have a sleepover at your place afterwards?" I suggested.

A big smirk formed across her lips. "I'm gonna make this the best damn night of your life."

When she said that, I should've gotten worried _fast_, but instead I nodded and said I couldn't wait.

xxxx

Angela dragged me to her place nearly immediately, demanding my clothes were boring and not party material. She was gonna let me borrow hers and give me a makeover.

For the first two hours I was there, she experimented with different styles of makeup, using my face as her canvas. And after that, she made me model clothing. Each new look amazed me. I knew she knew a lot about makeup, but I didn't realize she was this talented at making it look so good.

She painted my nails, did my hair, and even plucked my eyebrows, which hurt a lot, but when she was done, my face looked so much better. She even found a way to make my hideous zit look like it never existed. It took her about another hour to get my look complete. She made me look bad, but not quite a bad as she did.

"How much longer is this gonna take?" I whined.

She sprayed hairspray all over my hair. There was so much of it in the air, it made me cough. "There. You're done," she said. "Now I gotta take care of me."

I plopped myself down on her bed and flipped threw her magazines while she primped herself. She must've spent a lot of time reading these, I thought. All her favorite styles and models were marked. She'd even written notes to herself on the sides.

"Perfect look for date number two" one of them read. I rolled my eyes. She had her looks categorized this thoroughly?

It seemed like forever before she was finally done. She kept trying on outfits and deciding she didn't like them, but she finally landed on a mini skirt she paired with a really low-cut top.

"How do I look?" she asked with a huge grin.

I glanced over her. Like a whore, I thought. "Um, good," I said.

"Um, good?" she mocked me.

"Really grown up," I corrected myself.

She smirked wider. "Perfect."

"Can we go now?" I asked.

"Wait a minute." She rummaged through her drawers and found a pair of stockings. "Here, you can wear one of my bras and stuff it with these," she said.

I gave her a horrified expression. "Why?"

"'Cause my shirt kind of looks funny on you with how flat you are," she said, tugging on the fabric around my chest to illustrate her point. "Trust me, it'll look better."

I nodded and reluctantly followed her suggestion.

xxxx

We walked to Candy's, which wasn't far from her house. I was beginning to get nervous, but I didn't tell her that. Her bra was extremely uncomfortable. It was poking into the sides of my ribs, and it just felt weird having socks pressed up against my chest.

When we got there, before we could do anything else, she swung me over punch table and poured me some.

"Is there alcohol in this?" I sniffed it first and took a small sip.

She looked at me as though I was stupid. "None at all, Jule. _None at all_."

I picked up on her sarcasm, but it didn't taste like there was too much.

I took a deep breath and kept drinking it, and after I finished it, I refilled my glass.


	16. Chapter 16

Disclaimer: I don't own.

Forewarning: sensitive content in this one.

* * *

After three glasses things got fuzzy awful quick. My face got so warm, it felt like somebody was holding a hot water bottle to it, and I kicked myself for not remembering what Steve always said about drinking: never drink on an empty stomach.

I pushed my way through people to where the food was. It was better to eat late than never. right? I didn't know, but my stomach grumbled, demanding I feed it. All eighty-five pounds of me seemed light and heavy at the same time as I walked, and I had a hard time not swaying. I grabbed a handful of chips and started nibbling on them.

As I chewed I tried to remember what it felt like to be drunk because I couldn't decide if I was or not. The last time I drank I felt miserable quickly, but right now I was happy and I wasn't nervous anymore. I was tipsy, but it was great, so much better than last time. I couldn't recall a single moment in my life where I felt one hundred percent comfortable around people, but it was happening now. I could talk to people, I could say what I wanted to, I even made people laugh.

"Told ya you'd have a good time," Angela rubbed it in my face. She bumped into me and slung her arm around me. I almost tipped over, but she steadied me.

Candy waltzed up to us and handed us each a shot. Angela downed hers right away, but I stared at Candy for a moment. "Take it," she said with a smirk across her lips.

"No thanks," I said. "I'm good already. You can have it."

Angela burst out laughing at me and giggled along with her. "Two glasses of punch is nothin', Jule," Angela said, catching her breath. "One shot won't kill you."

I took the shot from Candy and examined it. I held it up to my nose and didn't even have to sniff to smell the alcohol. It smelled awful, like my dad's breath after he'd been drinking.

Slowly I pressed it to my lips and took a small sip, nearly gagging as soon as the liquid hit my tongue. It burned my lips and mouth. I hated the taste, but the feeling was even worse. "Oh God." I grimaced and tried not to concentrate on the burn.

"You're supposed to down it all at the same time, stupid," Candy said, shaking her head at me. "You've never done this before, have you?"

Angela couldn't contain her amusement, and despite all my confidence, I felt embarrassed. Here I was at a party, a high school party, and I couldn't even handle one shot.

I took a deep breath and downed it as fast as I could before I could change my mind. I gagged for real this time, but managed to swallow it all. It was horrible, but soon one turned into two, and two, three, and after that I didn't feel so hot anymore.

Suddenly I went from having the time of my life to having no fun at all. I felt nauseous and I wanted to just curl up in a ball and cry. If there weren't so many people, I might've done it.

xxxx

For the next couple hours, I stuck by Angela, but when James popped in after the rumble, she ditched me for him. At least I got to talk to him for a minute before she stole him away for the rest of the night. I didn't just want to hear about the rumble, I needed to, and I'd forgotten all about what Steve had planned until I saw James. He had a black eye, but said they won. I asked him how Steve was, and when he told me he didn't know, my face paled. When he added that most of them were in a lot worse shape than he was, it made my stomach churn even more.

I didn't wanna be there anymore. I wanted to go home. I was worried about Steve, and now that I was ill, I couldn't stand it any longer.

I backed myself into a corner and sat against the wall, focusing on my surroundings to keep myself from crying. I watched all the people, and it didn't make sense. I always pictured high school parties to be these amazing get-togethers with tons of people and games and everything, but it wasn't anything like I imagined. Everybody was just drinking, and if they weren't doing that, they were swapping spit. Was the only point to get drunk or make out? I didn't get it…

I rubbed my temples to distract myself from the growing pain in my stomach and tried to get ahold of myself. I couldn't start bawling in front of all these people.

"Hey, what're you doin' here all by your lonesome?" a voice asked.

I looked up slowly, startled somebody had approached me.

He smiled at me, and I wasn't sure what to make of him. "I dunno," I mumbled, embarrassed. "Just not havin' fun anymore."

He nodded and sat down beside me. At that moment I recognized him. He was a ninth grader, he went to my school, and I think he had a locker near me. He must've, 'cause I know I'd see him before.

"Julia, right?" he asked.

I nodded.

"I'm Larry," he said, holding his hand out to me.

I shook it awkwardly.

"You okay?" he asked.

I nodded at first, but then shook my head. "I don't like it here anymore," I said miserably. The room seemed to wobble even from where I was sitting.

"First time, huh?" he asked. "You probably just drank too much. Hey, I'll get you a glass of water. If you start drinking that now, you won't get a hangover tomorrow."

"Really?" I asked, confused. Steve always said the only thing that could cure a hangover was another beer, but I figured it was worth a shot.

Larry returned quickly with the water and I sipped it slowly, afraid I'd puke if I drank it too fast.

"So what grade are ya in?"

"Seventh," I replied.

"Dang, that's young," he said. "Thought you looked older." No thanks to Angela's makeover and stuffed bra idea I probably did.

"I'm only twelve."

"Well, that's only two years younger than me, I guess," he said with a grin.

We sat silently for a while, and then he piped up again. "Hey, I know how I know ya," he said, so sure of himself. "You're that girl that punched somebody."

I blushed. This was bound to be my fate: I'd forever be known as Steve's little sister or the girl who punched somebody. I wasn't sure which was worse.

"That was pretty great," he went on. "Her brother's a real piece of work. I can only imagine what kind of a little devil she is."

I giggled at that. "Yeah, I guess she is."

xxxx

An hour passed and I started having fun again; Larry and I kept talking, and I decided I really liked him. I almost felt guilty, considering the crush I had on Les. I mean, Les and I were more friends than anything else, but I still felt like a hypocrite, especially since I punched a girl over him.

I sighed and tried to relax. I was stuck here until Angel decided to take me home with her, so I figured I might as well enjoy it. Larry was being so nice too, I couldn't help but open up to him.

I told him about more than I intended, and he asked if I wanted to talk someplace quieter. I accepted and followed him to the first room we found with no people. Once there, I told him more: I told him about Rosie, about Dad, even about how I was worried about Steve. I wondered if it was the alcohol or something else, but I just started rambling, and by the end of it, I started bawling.

"It's okay." He moved to comfort me by putting his arm around me. I tensed up, but relaxed eventually, realizing he was just trying to be nice.

I cried against his shoulder for a long time before I got a grip on myself. He held me tighter and stroked my hair, and I liked that. I soaked up every minute of it, clinging to him, despite his near stranger status.

When my crying slowed, he caught me off-guard by kissing my cheek. I pulled away almost instantly.

"What's wrong?" he asked, and he sounded genuinely concerned, I stayed by him.

"I dunno, you just surprised me is all," I said.

He smirked and moved in to kiss me again, this time on my lips, and wanting to know what that felt like, I let him. I'd never kissed anyone before. I was caught between wanting to experience it and wanting to run away, but too my mind too cluttered to decide, so I just kept kissing him.

His hand was locked between my hair, and the longer I kissed him back, the more I decided I liked it. It was different and weird, but the good kind of weird, at least for a while.

He started kissing more intensely, and his other hand got lower and lower until he reached my lower back. I panicked and pulled away, but his hand was already moving up the back of Angela's shirt closer and closer to her bra.

I wanted to tell him to stop, but I couldn't find my voice. Everything was happening so quickly. He unsnapped it, the socks fell out unto my lap, and mortified, I shot up quickly. "I… I think I'm gonna go," I managed to eek out.

He grabbed my arm and begged me to stay. "Please," he said in such a sweet voice, I nearly reconsidered.

I shook my head. "No," I said, but he wouldn't let go of me. He held onto to my arm and pulled me closer. I struggled to break free. The next few seconds felt like minutes, and when he yanked on my arm harder, I kicked him between the legs as hard as I could.

He let go, moaning in pain, and before I lost the chance, I ran out as fast as I could.

I didn't even stop to say goodbye to Angela. I just kept running and running, leaving the house, leaving my purse behind, leaving everyone and everybody there. I ran for several minutes, until I tripped on a sidewalk crack many blocks away, scraping both knees and busting my lip. I got up to kneel on my knees and puked several times. I glanced around, realizing I'd just run in the opposite direction. Frustrated and scared, I pulled my hands to my face and sobbed so hard, I didn't even notice somebody had approached me.

"Who… who are you?" I asked, standing up so fast I tumbled over.

"My name's Randy," he said. "You okay there?" He crouched down to talk to me, and I scooted back a couple feet. By his attire I could tell he was a Soc, and I started shaking.

"Get away from me," I said. "My brother… he'll, he'll…"

"Hey, relax, kid," he said gently. "I won't hurt you. I just wanna get you home."

I shook my head, still unconvinced.

"You Steve Randle's little sister?" he asked. "You kinda look like him."

I didn't reply.

"Please just let me give you a ride," he pleaded with me. "You don't look so good."

He sounded so sincere when he spoke, but I still shook my head.

"We don't even have to talk to each other," he added. "It's getting mighty late and dangerous for a kid like you to be walking out alone. C'mon, I'll take you home."

After what had happened, I didn't want to trust anybody again.

"No," I said firmly.

He sighed and started rummaging through his pockets. When he pulled out a blade, I flinched.

He dropped it in front of me. "Here," he said, holding his hands up. "You can hold on to that until we get you home if it makes you feel better. Please, kid, I won't be able to sleep tonight if I just leave you here like this."

I picked it up reluctantly and nodded. "Okay," I said.

He opened the car door for me and I got in before I could think twice about it.

"Where do you live?"

I mumbled my address, clutching his blade in my hand tightly for comfort, and when he started driving, I kept my eyes on him, watching him extremely closely; he was silent, just like he said he'd be.

"You…you should probably drop me off a little ways away," I said when we got close to my neighborhood. "If my brother sees you, he'll hurt you."

He nodded. "Alright," he agreed.

"Right here's fine," I said when we were a few houses away.

"Take care of yourself now," he said. He looked at me with this concerned look on his face I couldn't quite read.

"Thanks," I said weakly, setting the blade down on the seat as I got out.

"Don't mention it. I'd want somebody to do the same for my sister."

I nodded and started running.

He stayed pulled to the curb for a while as I ran. It made me nervous, and I kept glancing over my shoulder, praying he'd leave, but he didn't take off until I reached my front door.

I caught my breath and hesitated before opening it. Steve's car was in the driveway and the light was on, but I didn't see my dad's truck anywhere. I decided to check the garage to be sure he was gone before going in. It wasn't there, and even though Steve was probably gonna be just as mad, I was relieved.

Before I could hesitate any longer, I walked inside.

Steve was hunched over on the couch. As soon as he heard me, he looked up. "Where were you?" he demanded, his voice already a yell.

When I didn't answer, I anticipated he'd keep yelling, but he didn't. He glared at me for a moment, and I immediately began feeling nauseous seeing the bruises all over him.

I started bawling, and he must've noticed something was wrong, because his face softened. He motioned for me, and I walked up to him slowly.

He helped me onto the couch and I threw my arms around him. He grimaced, and I eased my grip, realizing I was probably hugging part of him that hurt. "You okay?" I asked through my tears.

"We won, that's what's important," he said, avoiding the question. His face was cold and impassive, like he was hiding something. "What happened to you?" He brushed the hair out of my eyes to get a better look at my face.

When I didn't answer, he asked one more time a bit more forceful, "What happened, Julia?"

Unable to find words, I just shook my head and sobbed harder.

"Guess we'll talk about that later."

My whole body was shaking, still petrified about what had happened; he sighed and wrapped his arms around me.

He held me a few minutes before I finally realized I was safe.


	17. Chapter 17

Disclaimer: I don't own.

* * *

I cried for a long time before I looked up and noticed Steve had tears in his eyes too.

They hadn't fallen yet, they were just welled up in his eyes, but it still scared me something awful. I'd only seen him cry once, and that was when I was a little kid.

I was about four, so he must've been nine or ten. Dad was still trying to get his life together, so we were living with our Aunt Rita at the time, and to this day I still don't know why Steve was crying, but he was. Maybe it was something Aunt Rita said or did—she was a cranky old lady was a rancid personality, after all—but regardless of what it was, Steve was beside himself and it was terrible to watch.

Young as I was I tried to comfort him. I remember crawling up beside him and patting his back, and when I wasn't successful, I started crying myself. That was when he stopped. He got it together and calmed me down, and being a selfish four year old, I overlooked the reason why; I was too happy the tears stopped and too focused on my own discomfort to notice something was wrong about the situation. Now I hated it, I hated that he felt like he had to keep it together in front of me. He was doing it right now. Sure, he was teary-eyed, but that was as far as he'd let himself get. For him, it was a big deal to be teary-eyed period; he usually looked angry when he was sad, but this time, he was just sad.

"I'm okay, Steve," I assured him. "Honest, I am." I pulled away to get a better look at him; his eyes were still red, but he remained strong.

"Don't kid yourself," he said gruffly.

I leaned forward and saw my scraped knees, and it reminded me why I was upset in the first place. I got nauseous again. He was right; I was still a wreck.

He sat up and put his hand on my shoulder. "Think you can talk to me?" he asked, but before I could answer, the front door swung open and Dad staggered in.

He stared at us both, especially me, with a horrified expression. "Julia, honey, your lip…" he said, running a hand through his hair.

He walked up to me, and without thinking about it, I scooted closer to Steve and leaned against him. Dad wasn't mad, I could see that clearly, but I didn't trust him. Steve put his arms back around me and glared at our father, no longer teary-eyed; whatever sadness there was had been replaced with anger.

"What happened?" Dad demanded, looking directly at Steve.

"She's havin' a rough night."

"Why, you do something to do her?"

"Why the hell would I do something to her?" Steve's voice was so loud I could feel the vibration as he spoke.

Dad grumbled.

He bent down and moved closer to me, which startled me enough to make me jump. "Julie, baby," he said, rubbing my back slightly. "Wanna come talk to me and tell me what's wrong?"

I shook my head.

"Please, honey?"

"Does it look like she wants ya here?" Steve asked.

His tone was so harsh I felt bad for Dad. It was the truth. It wasn't that I wanted to shut him out, but he wasn't high on the list of people I wanted to see either. I was still mad at him and worried he'd pull another hypocritical move, like punishing me for cursing when he cursed all the time. Only this time it'd be worse—he'd be punishing me for being drunk while he was drunk, and although I knew it probably wouldn't happen given how worried he looked, I didn't trust him enough to chance anything.

He didn't say anything for a while, and when he finally did, he dropped the worried tone and switched right to yelling. "Let me talk to her," he told Steve. "Damn it, I shouldn't even have to ask that. She's _my_ kid."

"You wanna talk to him, Jule?" Steve asked.

I shook my head.

He glared at Dad. "Then you don't have to."

Dad clenched his fists and stormed off to his bedroom, slamming the door behind him.

"C'mon," Steve said as soon as he was gone. "Let's go somewhere else before he decides to come out here and bug us again, huh?"

I nodded and he helped me up. I swayed a bit and worried he might notice I was still feeling the effects of alcohol, but he just steadied me and guided me towards my room.

When we got there, I sat down next to him on my bed and leaned against him again. I felt embarrassed being this clingy, especially since he seemed annoyed by it, but I couldn't help it and he didn't shove me away.

"Alright, talk to me," he said after a few minutes. "You ain't stopped cryin' since you got home. What's goin' on?"

"It's nothin'," I lied.

I didn't want to tell him no more than I wanted to think about it. I was worried about what he'd tell me for ridiculous reasons. I was ninety percent positive he'd blame Larry for everything and knock all his teeth out first chance he got, but what if he lectured me for kissing him? That was kinda my own fault anyway, because I let him do that. I probably made him think I wanted more, so maybe it was all my fault in the first place. I didn't know. It was just too much to think about, and I couldn't explain it to Steve. Not now, maybe not ever.

I didn't want to hear about anything I'd done wrong tonight. I already knew what I'd done wrong, and I wasn't sure I could handle hearing him say it.

"I can stay up all night if I have to, ya know," he said. "I ain't gonna be able to sleep anyway."

"'Cause of me?" I asked weakly.

He rubbed his temples and sighed. "No," he told me. "Forget I said that."

"What's wrong?"

"We ain't talking about me, we're talking about you."

I looked away, and he nudged me. "So what happened?" he asked. "Did your zit make somebody shrivel up and die?"

"Steve!"

"Did all your friends ditch you?"

"No." Well, Angela had, but I couldn't tell him that; just mentioning her name would make him explode.

"Who's that boy you like again?"

"Steve…"

"Lester? Leslie?" he guessed. "Did he do something?"

I glared at him. "No!"

"I can keep guessing like this or you can tell me. Your choice."

I shook my head. "I can't."

"Why not?"

"I dunno. I just can't."

"It was it a boy, wasn't it?"

Goddamn his paranoia. He liked to guess everything was the fault of some boy whenever I was real upset, and I always told him I was too young to be having trouble with guys. He'd say I'd better be and that I'd better not date until I was married too, but this time, he wasn't just teasing me; he was right about it being a guy, and I didn't know what to say.

He stared at me, like he expected me to keep arguing with him, and when I didn't say anything, he grew more and more agitated.

"Was it Leslie?" he demanded.

"No!"

"Your defensiveness makes me think I'm right…"

"It wasn't Leslie, damn it!"

I was trapped now. If I didn't tell him what really happened, he'd think it was Les and probably beat him up. He wouldn't even need the entire reason why, just a name would be good enough.

"What happened?"

I sighed, knowing I'd have to tell him eventually, but I couldn't right now. "Can it wait 'til tomorrow?"

He groaned and rubbed his forehead.

"Please, Steve?" I begged. "I can't tonight. I just can't."

I started sobbing hard again, and he put his arm around my shoulder. "Okay, kid," he said. "We can talk about it later."

Confused he didn't keep pressing, I looked up.

The look on his face told me just how worried he was, and it almost made me spill everything, but I didn't have the courage yet. I was still trying to make sense of it myself.

xxxx

The sun was too bright when I woke up the next day. It hurt my eyes and made the pounding thump in my head stronger.

Come to think of it, _everything_ made my head hurt more. I yanked myself up and instantly wanted to crawl back in bed. Steve was always grumpy after a night of drinking, and I finally understood why. This was evil. Pure evil.

I heard Rosie call my name from a distance and wondered if I was imagining it. Could hangovers do that a person?

"Julia," I heard again and drug myself into the living room.

"I wanna talk to you for a second," she said.

I looked at her funny. "I thought you were gone."

"Not yet, I had to grab some things."

I glanced and noticed a sack full of her stuff by the door; it made my stomach churn. She really was leaving.

"Listen, I'mma be at my sister's, but that don't mean you won't see me."

I groaned inwardly at how awkward it sounded. Maybe I was just hungover, but sounded like one of those things people said, but didn't really mean, like she was trying to make herself feel better instead of me.

"Here's her number and address," she said, handing me a small slip of paper. "You can call me or come over whenever you need to, okay?"

I took it from her and nodded slightly, even though I probably wouldn't.

"I mean that," she said, hugging me to her. "I still care about you an awful lot, ya know."

I wasn't sure what to make of that. We'd been so close, and she'd been so good to me, it didn't seem fair to hold what she did to my dad against her. I mean, if I really thought about it, I could understand why she did it, and who's to say he wasn't cheating on her. I didn't wanna think about it, but he sure was gone an awful lot. Maybe they were both to blame.

Maybe even him more than her for all I knew.

"I'll see you soon," she told me, squeezing me tight.

She released me and picked up her things.

I watched her go, certain it might be the last time I'd ever see her.

xxxx

I stared at my ceiling, trying not to think about Rosie or last night, but if I tried not to dwell on one, the other popped into my head. It was hopeless, and I was spiraling into a complete mess again.

Steve was gone. I was positive he'd stick around to badger me about what happened, but I hadn't seen him all day. At first I was relieved. If he wasn't here, I didn't have to talk to him, but the longer he was gone, the more I wondered if I he was mad at me.

At first I figured I was paranoid. Maybe Dad kicked him out, maybe he was at work, maybe he really missed Pony and Johnny and wanted to spend time with him… There were a hundred reasons that made perfect sense, but I was hung up on this one.

And the more I dwelled on it, the more it made sense. He wasn't stupid, he probably guessed from the way I was dressed and how I was drunk that I'd been to a party, and if guessed that, he probably figured it had something to do with Angela. I tensed up, thinking about her. He hated her so much; if he'd thought that far, of course he'd be furious with me. He'd only told me a hundred times he didn't want me hanging around her, after all.

I curled up on my bed and cried. It seemed like everything had fallen apart in one night, even though it'd been building for weeks. It'd been my fault too. If I'd have listened to Steve and ditched Angela after she made me steal that mascara, it wouldn't have happened. Hell, I had several opportunities even after that incident to distance myself from her, but I didn't.

And even if I still ended up at that party, I didn't have to kiss Larry. If I'd have said no then, maybe he wouldn't have tried for more… There was so much I did wrong, I couldn't stand it.

My door swung open, and I jumped up, hoping to see Steve, but instead it was Dad.

"You hungry?" he asked.

I shook my head.

"C'mon." He walked up to me, pulled me to my feet, and hugged me slightly. "You can sit with me while I eat at the very least."

I rubbed the tears out of my eyes and followed him reluctantly to the kitchen table. I sat down and picked at the food to give him the illusion I was okay.

We ate in silence. Sometimes it looked like he wanted to talk to me, but we never moved past small talk. I was glad. I didn't want to talk to him, I didn't even want to be sitting in the same room as him, but then I noticed how upset he looked.

There were dark circles under his eyes, and he probably hadn't shaved in a week. "You okay, Dad?" It took me a long time to find the courage to ask it, but I wanted to know. He looked miserable.

"I'll be fine."

I didn't believe him, but before I could think of something to say, he spoke again. "Just a little surprised, ya know."

_I_ was surprised he bothered to say that much. I was expecting a simple "I'm fine", but he'd just admitted he wasn't okay and that he was surprised, and suddenly I felt bad for thinking he'd cheated on her. I still couldn't say for sure, but he looked too hurt, too blindsided to be guilty. When he was gone, he was probably just gone to drink, probably didn't want to do it in front of me or something like that.

"What about you?" he asked.

I shrugged.

"What happened last night?"

I stared down at the half-eaten sandwich in front of me to avoid looking at him.

"How 'bout I promise you won't get in trouble?" he went on. "Will ya tell me then?"

I sighed, even he'd figured out I'd done something bad. Dad hardly ever picked up on what I did unless I flat out told him, so if it was this obvious to him, there was no doubt Steve had put all the pieces together. I picked at my nails, even more convinced Steve was pissed at me.

"Julia, please," Dad said, and I peered up slowly.

"I went to a party," I said quietly.

Dad dropped his fork and glared at me.

"You said I wouldn't get in trouble… " I reminded him.

He sighed and nodded. "I know," he said, trying to keep his voice calm. "And you won't. It's just … you're only a little girl. What in the world were you doin' at a party?"

I wrung my hands. "Angela asked me to go."

He raised an eyebrow. "That doesn't seem like her."

I almost laughed. He must not have paid attention to who my friends were anymore if he thought that. Sure, Angela used to be a sweet, innocent little girl who kissed up to adults, and of course everybody used to think she was so dang cute too—that's how she got her attitude. But then she grew up and decided she was done kissing up and pissed everybody off instead, and she did a damn fine job of it at that.

"Well, I guess that explains the makeup and what you were wearing..." He massaged his temples. "I hope you enjoyed that, 'cause that's the last time I wanna see you lookin' like a tramp again."

The word "tramp" made me cringe.

"Anything else I should know about?"

I shook my head.

"Like I said, you won't get in trouble this time, so you might as well spill everything."

"That's all," I said.

"You sure?"

He had this concerned look on his face that made me feel guilty, and I thought about telling him about Larry, but I wasn't sure how to start that conversation. "Yeah, I'm sure."

"Well… don't ever do that again." He gave me a pointed look, and for a moment, I thought he might go back on his promise, but he didn't. "I won't be so generous if there's a next time."

"I won't."

He sighed and motioned for me. "Come here." He slid his chair out and held his arms out to me.

I walked up to him slowly, and he pulled me into a tight hug. "I love you a lot, kid," he said. "Love you brother too, but do me a favor and be less wild than him, okay?"

I was too surprised to say anything at first. I knew he loved me, but I could probably count on one hand the number of times I recalled hearing him say it.

"Okay," I said, hugging him back. "I love you too, Dad."


	18. Chapter 18

Disclaimer: I don't own.

* * *

**October 2****nd****, 1966**

Steve didn't come home that night or the next day, and it only made me worry more. I couldn't stand myself. I was probably just being paranoid, but I couldn't stop the sad feelings, and the more I dwelled, the more I was convinced what happened had been my fault. Drunk or not, I should've known not to trust Larry.

I guess I was lucky in the end; it could've been twenty times worse. When I thought of that, I told myself it was stupid to be upset, but it didn't change feeling abandoned. I had nobody.

Steve wasn't here, Rosie was already at her sister's, Angela had ditched me, Rachel wasn't a good enough friend, and Les… well, maybe I could talk to him, but what if he really did like me? Would he be mad at me for kissing somebody else? I didn't know, and the thoughts ate away at me.

I knew I had to say something before I went crazy, but the only person around was my father, and there was no way I'd talk to him. I already tried, and while it went better than expected, I couldn't bring myself to go into details. It was too much too soon, and even though it'd probably be the same with anyone else, I still felt abandoned and wallowed in my own misery for way too long.

Dad noticed I was upset and tried to be good to me, but good didn't include much past awkward small talk and watching TV. He tried as hard as he knew how, but I only got worse and worse as the weekend went on, and as my luck would have it, Angela showed up on Sunday night

"Hey," she greeted me, like she nothing was wrong between us.

I leaned against the door post and sighed. Angela was about the last person I needed to see; she'd gotten me into the party mess in the first place, and she probably didn't even care. She was probably proud of what happened.

She rolled her eyes when I didn't reply. "Jesus, it's been two days and you're still hungover?"

"Maybe," I mumbled. I didn't know how long a hangover could last, but the way Steve acted sometimes, it seemed like it could be days.

"Yeah, whatever." She pushed her way past me, inviting herself in. "Hi, Mr. Randle!"

He got up and moved to the kitchen, ignoring her, and I could only guess he was still hacked at her for dragging me to that party. For some reason it was comforting to see his anger. Maybe it was just that the shock of me doing something wild hadn't worn off yet, but it was nice to think he cared about me enough to hold a grudge. And since it didn't seem likely he'd tell me he loved me again anytime soon, I'd have to learn to appreciate his anger when it was on my behalf.

"Hey, let's go to your room," Angela said, tugging on my arm.

"Why?" I asked, following her hesitantly.

"Just c'mon."

She shut the door behind us when we got there and let out a loud sigh.

She was silent for a few moments, and it made me nervous. I'd never once known Angela to be silent about anything. Silent meant something bad, something serious.

"It's too bad about Johnny Cade and Dallas Winston, huh?" she said finally. "Your brother okay?"

"I dunno," I told her. "I haven't seen him since Friday night actually."

"Well, mine are acting strange. Tim claims he wasn't that close to either of them, but he's even more serious than usual…"

"What happened?" I asked. "Did they get really hurt in that rumble?"

She looked at me like I'd lost my mind. "You been living in a bubble for the last two days?"

I bit down on my lip. "I dunno what you're talking about…"

She rubbed her forehead and glared at me slightly. "God, you're dense sometimes," she said, but her tone flipped back to the same level of serious that'd scared me before. "They died," she said quietly.

My eyes grew wide. "Died?"

She nodded, and the look in her eyes told me there was no way she was lying; there was too much upset and worry behind them for my own comfort.

I ran a hand through my hair. "Holy shit." Tears welled in my eyes immediately and started running down my cheeks. Johnny and Dallas weren't my friends, sure, but I felt so selfish for thinking Steve was avoiding me over being mad at me about a stupid party. His friends were dead, and I was so focused on me.

"I can't believe you didn't know," she went on. "Didn't he tell you? Hell, it probably was in the paper…"

I shook my head. I thought back to the conversation we'd had, and now it all made sense—why he refused to talk about himself, why he said he wouldn't be able to sleep. I felt sick. Dad probably even knew and was upset about that on top of me and Rosie being gone.

"How'd it happen?" I wasn't I wanted to hear the answer, but the curiosity would eat away at me if I didn't ask.

"Well, Johnny got burnt real bad in that fire when they saved those kids," she explained. "He didn't pull through, they said, and Dallas, well, I still don't know exactly what happened there, but the fuzz shot him. It all happened when we were at Candy's…"

She rubbed the back of her neck and grumbled. "It's goddamned awful is what it is."

I wiped at my eyes and plopped myself unto the bed. Angela patted my shoulder and sat beside me, and it got awkwardly silent again.

What else was there to talk about after hearing something like that? Nothing. We said nothing to each other for a long time; it might've been the longest we'd ever sat in the same room without speaking to each other.

"So Tim's pissed at me," she caught me offguard several minutes later.

I looked at her funny. Not that it surprised me to think her brother could be pissed at her, but it was such an abrupt subject change. Knowing her, she was probably sick of the tension. She caused so much of it, but sometimes I could tell it really got to her. This was one of them.

"Why?" I asked.

"One of his members ratted me out for bein' at that party Friday night." She rolled her eyes. "He said he wants to put me in a convent."

I laughed at the thought of her being nun. What convent would accept her? No amount of do-gooding could coax them to keep her.

"It ain't funny, Jule," she snapped back. "God, he's probably gonna beat the shit out of James too. Make an example out of him or somethin', so nobody ever dates me again!"

I smirked, amused it was such a big deal to her. "You're only thirteen anyway."

"I'm still gonna," she insisted. "But he ain't gonna know about it. Just gotta be smarter than him."

I wanted to tell her it wasn't possible, but I held my tongue, figuring she wouldn't listen.

"I gotta be good for a while though, 'cause he's probably watching close, and then when he forgets all about it… that's when I'll make my move."

I raised an eyebrow.

"Teach me how to be a good girl, Jule." She pouted and tugged on my sweater sleeve. "You're so great at it."

I sighed, knowing the streak would end as soon as she could get away from it, but for now, I was going to enjoy it.

xxxx

I couldn't get my mind off Steve's friends after Angela left, and when I tried to sleep that night, it was a disaster.

My thoughts raced, and I lay awake for hours. It seemed unreal. Two people in one night, and not just any night, the same damn night I went to a Candy's.

I shivered underneath the covers. No matter how many blankets I tossed over myself, I still felt cold. Nothing made sense. They were dead this whole time I'd been worrying Steve was mad at me. It gave me some comfort but not enough. Larry had still tried to get between knees, and to think after that fiasco, on top of deaths, Rosie had left the next day. Everything was falling apart. We were all in shambles, and I had no clue how to stop it or fix it.

With Steve's friends, I couldn't do anything. It pained me to accept, but it was the truth. I could only try to be there for him, if he let me be, but seeing as he still hadn't been home, he probably needed his other friends more than his little sister.

Larry … I could do nothing but dwell on how stupid I'd been and forever vow to be more careful. I wanted to tell Steve about him, so I could rest assured he'd get his head pounded in, but it'd only help so much. It wouldn't change that guilty feeling or make me feel any less stupid for trusting Larry.

But Rosie. Rosie I _could _do something about.

I got up, flipped on the light, and picked the slip of paper she'd given me. I held it between my fingers and stared at the number and address for a long time. After all she'd done for me, it seemed so wrong to do what I was about to do, but it didn't stop the urge; I ripped the sheet apart until it was practically confetti.

I'd loved her, and somewhere I still probably did, but the last thing I needed was to wonder about her—wonder if she cared for me, wonder if her mothering me was just practice for her new baby, wonder if the baby was even my brother or sister.

It went on and on and on, and it stung to think about it. I thought I knew her, but I didn't and I wasn't sure how to take it. I guess I'd just had high hopes because I'd never had much of a mother. And she wasn't much of one, but still, I'd hoped she'd at least be my hip stepmom always.

That was nothing more than a distant thought now. I couldn't count on her for anything, because there was no guarantee she'd be there in the future, and as much as it pained me to admit it, it was better to accept that now.

If I held on to hope, I could only be disappointed, but if I expected nothing, I could be pleasantly surprised.

I repeated this to myself over and over again, but when I stared at the bits of paper on the carpet, I broke down sobbing.


	19. Chapter 19

Disclaimer: I don't own.

* * *

**October 3rd****, 1966**

"I don't feel good, Dad," I said, staring at the toast he put in front of me.

He sat in the chair beside me and set the near empty glass he was holding on the table. I couldn't say for sure, but it looked like it might be alcohol. "What's wrong?" he asked.

"I think I'm sick." I picked off a corner of the crust and held it for a while before I put it in my mouth. I was lying. My body wasn't sick at all, but when I thought about going to school, my stomach churned. I couldn't go, not when I might run into Larry.

Dad felt my forehead and gave me a look that told me he didn't believe me, but he didn't seem interested in arguing with me, like he'd rather just let me pretend I'm sick than ask me what was really wrong. I was right. "I'll call you in sick, I guess," he told me with a sigh.

It felt weird; for the first time in my life, I lied and got exactly what I wanted out of it, and I thought for a second I could really take advantage of this if I wanted to, at least in his case. It was becoming clearer and clearer that he didn't like talking to me. It made him uncomfortable.

He patted my shoulder and got up to call the school secretary. When he wasn't looking, I moved the glass closer to me and sniffed it. It definitely was alcohol. I pushed it back to where it was on the table and glanced at him, trying to figure out if he was drunk or not. I couldn't tell. If he was it wasn't by much, but I was certain this was the first time I'd drink so early, and I couldn't decide if it was just his upset over Rosie leaving or if I'd never noticed before.

"You gonna be fine on your own all day?" he asked when he hung up the phone.

I gave him a puzzled look. They'd left me home alone before, so it seemed weird he should be concerned about it now. "Yeah, I'll be fine," I told him. I wasn't a baby, but apparently he thought I was.

"Okay," he said, grabbing his keys, but he lingered in front of me for a while.

Part of me wanted to run up to him and hug him, but I remained firmly in my seat.

He'd been so great to me lately, I wanted to overlook everything, to pretend things were fine, but I couldn't do that. He could turn just as fast, he had before, and he could again. I wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt, especially since Steve never did. Steve was so negative about everybody, but he'd been right about Rosie, and as much as I hated to admit it, he was right about what'd became of me hanging out with Angela too.

Maybe he was right about our father. I didn't want him to be, but I couldn't get my hopes up when it might lead to disappointment.

xxxx

I went back to bed and slept as long as I could. If I slept at all last night, it was no more than an hour, and somehow now that it was day, it was easier to sleep, at least until Angela showed up.

She banged on window, demanding I unlock the front door and let her in.

"Playing hooky, I see." She raised an eyebrow as she walked in. "Figured you might be here."

I shook my head. "I'm sick," I told her.

"You don't look it, but it's good you weren't in school."

"Shut up, I am too sick. What're you doin' here anyway?"

"I gotta tell ya something."

"Tell me what?"

"Shit, I really shouldn't, but I'd want to know if it was me, ya know?"

I gave her a look; I didn't like where this was going.

"I'd rather you heard it from me than when you go back later…" She sighed and bit down on her lip, looking truly uncomfortable. Usually when she said something like that, she had an evil smirk, but this time it wasn't like that at all.

"Angel, tell me," I insisted.

"Candy started a rumor about you."

I froze. Candy and rumor in the same sentence sounded awful.

"She told a couple people she saw you with Larry Tillerman," she went on, and I felt my stomach drop. "They seem to think you guys did it."

My knees got wobbly and I backed myself up to sit on the couch. I buried my face in my hands, trying to brace myself for whatever else it was she had to tell me, wondering if it could even get worse. Of all the things she could've said, this was the last thing I needed to hear.

"I told her there was no way," she continued. "And she was such a bitch about it, I'm done with her for good. Honest, I am. I hate her and everything about her."

Glory, Candy was evil, maybe even worse than Marie. "She's kind of right…" I mumbled and immediately regretted it. She wasn't right, she wasn't right at all, and I was just absent-mindedly saying things.

"How can she be kind of right?" Angela pressed. "Did you sleep with him?"

I hesitated, her tone wasn't mean or bitchy, but I couldn't help but wonder if saying something to her might make it worse. "I didn't," I managed, feeling tears come to my eyes. I didn't want her or anyone to think I did because I hadn't. "But he wanted to and…" I couldn't finish the sentence. Sure, she seemed pissed at Candy, but I still wasn't sure I could trust her with that information. What if she went and made the rumor worse?

I didn't trust her, even though she wasn't acting like a bitch at all… In fact, she was being a good friend. She picked up on my hesitation, sat down beside me, and even gave me a moment to get ahold of myself before she spoke again, but when she did, her words still caught me off-guard. "I hate to ask," she started. "But he didn't actually … sleep with you, did he?"

"No." I shook my head firmly. "That's why I left."

"Jeez," was all she said and gave me a look that almost said she felt sorry for me. "Listen, Jule," she said, putting her arm around my shoulder. "I'mma make damn sure Candy gets hers for this. I'll start an even worse rumor about her. Maybe even two. See if she likes it any. And I'll make sure Larry gets somethin' too. I'll just tell Tim and Curly he slept with me and let them have their fun…"

"Wouldn't Tim get pissed at you though?" I asked. "Especially if he figured out it was a lie…"

"He's annoyed me with enough already." She rolled her eyes. "Honest, it'll work out better for me. It's stupid, but I swear he feels like he's solved all the world's problems after he beats somebody's head in."

"Thanks Angela," I said, all too eager to be done with the conversation. I was mortified to think anybody knew about what happened, and I was beginning to wish I hadn't said a word to her.

Like always, the tears were falling. I wiped them away and she kept sitting by me. I was surprised at just how good of a friend she could be sometimes; it was almost felt like when we were younger again, but the next time a cuss word threw out of her mouth, I'd be reminded she'd changed.

I flinched, hearing the door open, certain my dad had come home and my lie would be foiled by Angela being here, but instead it was Steve.

He walked in and stared at us. "Ain't you two s'possed to be in school?"

"Sure," Angela replied before I could. "What about you though? You go to school too, don't you?"

"I'm sick," I piped up, hoping he'd take pity on me.

He raised an eyebrow. "Why's your friend over if you're sick?"

More tears streamed down my face, and he turned to Angela and sighed. "What's goin' on with her?" he demanded.

"Hell if I know," Angela said, glaring back.

"You know what I think? I think you do know, so quite bein' a little shit and tell me."

"Well, I think I'm gonna split." She got up and headed towards our door.

Steve stopped her. "I don't think so," he said. "You ain't leaving 'til you tell me what happened here."

"Fine." She sighed and pivoted herself around to face him.

I braced myself for World War 3, my brother and my best friend were the two single most stubborn people I knew, but Angela gave in way easier than I expected. "It's kind of a long story. Ya got time for a long story?"

Steve crossed his arms and nodded.

"Angela!" I cried from where I was. I shook my head at her, but she ignored me.

"Well, first of all I took her to a party Friday night," she started, and much to my dismay she went on to tell him everything, after little to no coaxing, almost like she expected good to come of it. I didn't get it—she was all for keeping secrets from people.

I tried to signal for her to shut up at several points during her rambling. I couldn't even listen to all the words she was saying, it was painful to hear her describe it from the bits and pieces I allowed myself to register, but she didn't spare a single detail, right down to Candy, the rumor and even Larry and what happened there. It was awful. I swore I could trust her, but I guess I couldn't.

When she was done, Steve didn't even thank her. "I think you should leave now," he said.

She rolled her eyes and ignored him, walking up to me.

"Angel," I said under my breath. "Why would you—"

"Shh," she shushed me. "Think he was gonna leave it at that anyway? Consider yourself lucky I did you the favor of not having to explain it yourself."

"But..."

"Get over it," she snapped. "I'm gonna go take care of Candy now."

She winked at me and turned to leave. Steve glared at her, and she sneered at him. "You're welcome, I guess," she told him.

She slung her purse across her shoulder and walked out.

When she was gone, Steve sat beside me. He looked pissed; whether it was at me, Angela, or Larry, or all three of us, I didn't know.

"I'm really sorry about your friends, Steve," I said. It wasn't just a ploy to change the subject either. I hadn't seen him in days, so it was the first opportunity I had to tell him, and I didn't want to let it pass before I forgot. I had to say something, I felt absolutely awful for him, but look on his face made me wish I hadn't.

"I don't wanna hear a word about that," he said. "And this is the only time I'm gonna say it nicely."

If this was nicely, anything else sounded terrifying.

"You always ask too many goddamned questions, and I don't wanna hear anything about them, you got it?"

"But I didn't ask anything, I just said I'm—"

"I don't care," he cut me off.

We sat in silence for a long time, and I wished even more I hadn't said anything. It probably seemed like I was just trying to change the subject to him, and I felt horrible that it'd be sorta true. I guess neither of us wanted to talk about ourselves.

"Was all she said true?" Steve asked.

I curled my lip under my teeth and nodded.

His face grew redder. "You're twelve, damn it," he said. "Why the hell are you doin' shit like that?"

"I dunno."

"If you don't know why you do something, you probably shouldn't do it," he went on. "I've told you what I think about her before, and now you're partying with her? Jesus, what happened to you? I don't even know you anymore."

"You don't have to be so mean," I said, wiping at my eyes. "Don't you think I know it was a bad idea? Don't you think I'm already upset there's rumors about me? Especially when they're half true!"

"If you think it was such a bad idea, why was she over here, huh?" he said, his voice rising. "You know what? Don't even answer. I think I can pretty well figure out you two were ditching class again."

"No!" I shot up, and I was so angry, all the tears were gone. "I told Dad I was sick because I didn't want to see him at school, okay?" I screamed. "And then she showed up. I didn't even ask her to, so don't give me shit about that. Don't you dare give me shit about that! I'm sick of you yelling at me like I'm a stupid little kid."

I caught my breath and braced myself for his reaction to my outburst, but much of my surprise, he didn't start yelling. "You're not stupid, Julia," he said, looking truly shocked by my anger. I felt triumphant for a moment until he added, "But you are a little kid…"

"I am not," I shot back. "I could've… I could've gotten myself a boyfriend at that party if I wanted to." I didn't realize how awful that sounded until the words were out of my mouth.

He ran a hand through his hair and sighed. "Okay, I take that back, maybe you really are stupid," he said. "You think you're grown up 'cause you could get yourself a boyfriend?"

I didn't think that, I just wanted to prove I wasn't a little kid. "I dunno."

"Well, do you?"

"No," I said, but he didn't seem to hear it.

"Well, you're not," he went on. "All it proves is there's a lot of guys out there sick enough to advantage of someone as young you. That's it, and you don't want that. I know you don't."

I groaned. I shouldn't have picked such a stupid argument, but I just wanted to win one, so he always didn't get to be right. It wasn't fair that he _always_ got to be right, but I knew that arguing with Steve wasn't the real issue, and from the way he was acting, he knew it too. He really was right about that, and the more I thought about it, the more scary things seemed; I didn't know who I could trust or who I couldn't.

I sat back down and stared at the floor, still too frustrated to cry. I was sick of crying all the time anyway.

"You gotta be careful, kid," he said, putting a hand on my back. "Shit, if all Angela said was true…"

"It was, and I don't wanna talk about it." I turned away from him, and he sighed.

"Just be careful, okay?"

"Okay," I said quietly.

"I guess I owe that friend of yours an apology. Leslie or whatever his name was."

I shoved his hand away and glared. "What'd you do to him?"

"Don't worry, I didn't punch him or anything."

"Ugh, that doesn't make me feel better. You know, you don't have to punch somebody to be an asshole, Steve."

"Hey, you were mighty upset a couple nights ago, and I thought it was his fault, but Jesus, there was no way… " He laughed and shook his head. "I think that kid's a fairy. You can hang out with him. He's too queer to do anything."

I elbowed him. "Steve!"

"What?"

There was so much wrong with that, I didn't even know where to begin. "He's not queer," I said. "He's just sensitive and different. God, you probably scared the crap out of him…"

"Give me a break, I'll make sure I get the right guy this time."

I crossed my arms and huffed. I was sorely tempted to tell him to stay out of my business, but maybe I _did_ want him to do something to Larry. I just wanted the whole situation to go away and not bother me anymore, but it wouldn't. Tomorrow, I'd have to go to school and face Candy's rumor, and maybe see him, but maybe Steve could make him too afraid to come near me. I just wished there was a way to do that without it being so embarrassing, and I didn't want my brother to scare away all the nice guys I'd eventually want to talk to me in the process... "Why do you always have to be like this?" I asked.

"Like what?"

"Like yelling at my friends and stuff like that," I said.

"Clearly I live to piss you off."

"Gee, thanks."

He smirked. "You also might be the only person around here I don't mind calling family."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means I don't hate you. Deal with it."

I threw my arms around him, partly because I really did want to hug him, but also because I knew it'd annoy him. He wasn't a sentimental person; coming from him, "I don't hate you" was probably the closest thing to "I love you" as I'd ever hear.

I didn't know how or why, but in the moment I felt slightly better. Maybe Rosie wouldn't come back, maybe Dad would drink more, maybe Steve would get more rough around the edges than he already was, maybe that rumor would ruin what little reputation I had, but somehow, I felt like things could be okay.

Maybe not today or tomorrow but eventually, and I had to hold on to that or I'd turn into Angela.

Steve groaned and hugged me back. "Okay, you got your hug," he said, prying my arms off him. "Enough of this crap."

I grinned. "Love you too, Steve."

"I know," he said, ruffling my hair.

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The sequel is up! See Inescapable Reality on my profile. :) Thanks!


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